Details in the Fabric
by mangoaddict
Summary: Sequel to Time After Time. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.
1. The Lines That Divide

Title: Details in the Fabric

Author's note: So this is the third story in my Roswell rewrite, after _This Brilliant Dance_ and _Time After Time_. It will differ significantly from the 3rd season of Roswell as Alex did not die (but Jim did) and Tess was not a traitor and did not leave Earth with Max's son, giving Max no reason to search for her. That being said, some elements may remain the same, so anything that looks familiar is probably taken from some episode of the show and therefore does not belong to me.

The first half of this chapter is a recap of the important plot points last two stories. Please note that I did not recap the entire plot of both stories, but only the parts that will have a significant impact on this story.

The actual story starts after the recap. So if you remember the previous two stories (and if you do, I applaud your memory as it has been a while since I started this series), then you can skip the first several paragraphs. Otherwise, I recommend reading them.

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Recap: The Past Two Years

The crash happened in 1947. Nasedo was thrown from the ship and captured immediately by Agent Pierce Sr. of the FBI. He stayed in the white room for almost forty years. The skins, who followed the ship to Earth, were interested in finding and acquiring the Granolith before it could fall into the hands of the Royal Four, so they searched for any signs of alien life. During their search, they killed several FBI agents, including Agent Pierce Sr. His son, Agent Donald Pierce, began a vendetta against aliens in response to his father's murder.

Max, Isabel, Michael, and Tess all hatched at relatively the same time. Max and Isabel were adopted by the Evans, and Michael ended up in foster care with Hank. Tess somehow made it into an adoption agency in Los Angeles, where she was adopted by Andrew and Jessica Harding. The skins found Tess in Los Angeles about a year after she was adopted, and killed both the Hardings in a 'car accident.' Tess was taken in by Jim Valenti, who was a friend of Andrew Harding's. A year later, Tess accidentally used her mind-warp abilities to 'convince' Valenti to adopt her.

Years pass…

Then Liz gets shot (which is where _This Brilliant Dance_ begins), and Max heals her. She eventually tells Alex and Maria, and they join in the attempts to keep the secret safe. Jim Valenti begins investigating the shooting, and Tess does her best to lead him astray, finally mind-warping him. Liz is forced to lie to Kyle, whom she is dating at the time, and Kyle believes that she cheated on him, and is furious. After Kyle and Liz break up, Liz and Max start dating, and Liz receives flashes of Max's previous life.

Just as things are about to calm down again, Nasedo breaks out of the white room and comes to Roswell disguised as Maria's supposed father, Sean. He kills a few people to cover his tracks, but Michael and Maria soon discover that the shape-shifter is in town, and Isabel figures out that he is pretending to be Sean.

Agent Topolski comes to the high school as a guidance counselor. She defects sometime later, and disappears.

Brody Davis and his daughter Sydney come to town, and Max starts working for him. Michael sues for emancipation with help from Mr. Evans, and then Nasedo kills Hank. Michael and Maria start dating, as do Isabel and Alex, Kyle and Trudy McIntire, and Tess and a jock named Chris.

During the annual father-child camping trip, Michael goes to investigate an alien sign he saw in the woods, and Max and Maria chase after him. In the process, Maria gets kidnapped by Agent Topolski, who confides in her about Pierce and the Special Unit. Pierce shows up and kills Agent Topolski, but Michael saves Maria.

Max tries to heal Sydney Davis' cancer, but fails, and reluctantly asks Nasedo for help. The shape-shifter tells them all who they are and explains about past lives. He also gives them the Destiny Book and the matching orb, and they are able to receive the message from Max and Isabel's mother.

Nasedo then kidnaps Maria and takes her to a carnival. Michael discovers that she is missing and rallies the others, and they rush to her rescue. Valenti follows them, and realizes that Tess is involved in this conspiracy.

At the carnival, they rescue Maria, but when Valenti is put in danger, Tess risks her own life to save him. He escapes, but the FBI catches Tess and puts her in the white room.

Nasedo, Valenti, and the three other hybrids band together to rescue Tess and escape the base. Nasedo blows up the base, but Pierce follows them back to Roswell and interrogates Kyle. Max kills Pierce to save everyone else. Nasedo shape-shifts into Pierce to discredit the FBI agent and disband the Special Unit.

Tess tells Valenti and Kyle the entire truth, but then convinces Kyle to let her mind-warp him into forgetting. Max breaks up with Liz because he thinks he is too dangerous to be around, and Michael breaks up with Maria so he can focus on helping Max and Tess. Isabel does the same.

Max, in the pod chamber, discovers the Granolith and calls for the other three aliens. They place the alien device from the white room on the Granolith, unknowingly activating a homing beacon, and the skin discover the location of the Granolith.

_Time After Time_ starts with Max falling apart because he had been forced to kill Pierce. Courtney Banks shows up as the new girl in town, beginning classes at Roswell High School. Michael becomes suspicious of the mayor of Roswell, and discovers that the mayor is investigating them and is in close contact with Senator Whitaker. Liz takes a job with Senator Whitaker's campaign, and meets Nicolas Crawford.

Tess goes missing, and Isabel rescues her. She discovers that Whitaker is a skin, and learns about her past as Vilandra and her love for Khivar. Nasedo informs Michael that Nicolas is Khivar's younger brother, and incredibly dangerous.

The group finds out that the skins are gathering at Copper Summit, and Michael, Max, Maria, Isabel, and Tess go to investigate. There they meet Trevor, another skin who tries to get them to leave. They fight Nicolas, and just barely escape.

When they return to Roswell, Courtney accidentally awakens Zan's personality inside Max. He picks a fight with Kyle, ignores Isabel, and is disdainful towards Liz. The fallout from all of this threatens to tear apart the group.

Michael and Max learn about the Harvest. They attempt to stop it, and in the process, they discover that Courtney is a skin and that Trevor is Michael's brother. Max lets Trevor and Courtney live. Trevor flees, and Courtney tells him about their past lives and that she works for a faction of skins, lead by the mayor of Roswell, that wants Michael on the throne. She also tells him that Trevor is loyal to Khivar and is their enemy.

Shortly after, Liz is visited by Future Michael, who tells her that the entire world has fallen apart because she gave up on Max and left Roswell for boarding school. That allowed Khivar to kill her, and her death completely destroyed Max. Future Michael tells Liz that she can't give up on Max.

We then switch to the Dupes in New York City. Zan is emotionally and physically abusive towards Ava, causing her to finally snap and kills him. She runs away from Rath and Lonnie, and meets Nicolas, who uses her fear of the other Dupes to convince her to join his side.

The five ruling worlds of the solar system that includes Antar are having a Summit to discuss the war, and Max, Tess, Rath, and Lonnie participate. Nicolas and Ava come to the Summit. Max and Tess realize that Rath and Lonnie can't be trusted, and refuse the deal. When they leave the summit, Rath and Lonnie try to kill Max and Tess. Rath escapes, but Lonnie dies.

Things calm down for a bit, but then Tess, Kyle, Jim, and Michael are all trapped in a pocket realm. Kyle's mind is slowly melting, and Michael sees a vision of an unfamiliar girl calling out for help. The skins then attack Max, Isabel, Maria, Liz, and Alex, and there is a big fight during which Tess, Michael, and Kyle are released from the pocket realm. Tess kills most of the skins with a fireball. Max heals Kyle, and Kyle, now that he remembers everything, says he wants nothing to do with them anymore.

Isabel has a vision of Laurie Dupree in a mental hospital, and tells Michael. Michael, Maria, and Nasedo, break into the hospital and discover that Laurie's grandfather was Michael's human donor. Michael and Maria talk to Laurie's stepmother, Meredith Dupree, and help her realize that her stepdaughter is being traumatized by Meredith's brother Bobby. Trevor shows up and tells Michael that he won't tell Khivar about Laurie because he doesn't want to hurt Michael.

The group – minus Michael and Maria – learn from Larek that parasitic crystals have escaped from their ship and are attempting to mutate and take over the world. Max and Liz realize that Philip Evans has been infected by the Queen. Max uses his powers to pull the Queen out of his father and kill it. Philip collapses, and Diane, after witnessing all of this, faints. Tess refuses to mind-warp them, afraid of what her powers can do after they almost killed Kyle, and so Isabel uses her dream-walking gifts to make her mother think it was all a dream. Philip doesn't remember any of what happened.

Things return to normal for several weeks. Tess starts having repeating nightmares of the night the Hardings died, and Kyle finally attempts to make some peace with Tess and Liz as he still cares about both of them. Then Courtney warns Michael that Nicolas is planning something, and shortly after, Rath shows up and kidnaps Isabel. Max and Michael are attacked by skins, and are saved by two Royalists – aliens loyal to the Royal Four – named Jared and Kristalia. They warn Max and Michael against trusting Nasedo.

Trevor confronts Courtney, saying he doesn't trust her. Courtney kidnaps Ava and convinces the Roswell group to send Tess into the skin compound as Ava so that she can get close to Isabel. Tess infiltrates the building, and Max, Michael, Jim, Alex, and the Royalists attack the compound and save Isabel. Nicolas tries to kill Michael, but Trevor, forced to choose between siding with Khivar or saving Michael's life, saves Michael and kills Nicolas. Then Trevor dies, and Courtney helps the others escape from the compound.

Ava escapes and disappears.

About a month later, a car accident puts Alex in a coma and kills Jim Valenti. Max tries to heal Alex, and Isabel tries to dream-walk him, but neither attempt works. Liz and Kyle start to suspect that this might be alien-related, and investigate a mysterious girl named Leanna. Liz tells the group about her suspicions, causing a division, humans against aliens. Liz accuses the others of not caring enough about Alex.

Maria and Liz go to Las Cruces, and discover that Leanna is actually Courtney and she was working on translating the Destiny Book. They are almost killed in an explosion, but are saved by Jared. Isabel then tells the group that she had been working with Alex to try to decipher the Destiny Book, but she didn't know about Leanna. Tess receives a flash of Courtney mind-warping Alex and killing Jim, and attempts to kill the skin, but Courtney escapes.

Diane and Philip meanwhile plant a video camera in Isabel's room and see her using her powers. They confront Max and Isabel, and the two siblings are forced to reveal the truth to their parents.

Nasedo kills the mayor, and then tries to kill Courtney. Courtney defeats – but does not kill – him, and then kills Jared who has been spying on them. Before Jared dies, he summons the rest of the Royalist Army to Roswell.

Courtney tells Liz how to save Alex in exchange for a promise from the group not to go after her. Liz gets a flash from her, and realizes that Courtney was the one to kill Trevor. Courtney tells Liz that being healed by Max has changed her somehow, but then erases Liz's memory of the conversation and leaves Roswell.

They save Alex, who doesn't remember any of what happened, so Isabel tells him everything. Michael tells Maria that he isn't sure how long he is going to be able to stay on Earth, but he loves her and wants to be with her. Max and Liz talk, but things are still strained between them. Kyle decides to leave Roswell, unable to stay after everything that has happened.

The story ends with Khivar coming to Earth.

* * *

Chapter One: The Lines That Divide

_It's been one week since Alex woke up, and somehow, nothing seems right. We should all be happy, we should be celebrating the fact that he is alive and safe, but we're not. The lines are still there, dividing us, and I can't figure out a way around them._

_I'm not sure if I _want_ to figure out a way around them._

Liz Parker paused, the pen hovering over the page of her journal. She let out a long sigh and turned her eyes towards the window of her room. The sun was setting, the end of another beautiful Roswell day. Perfect blue skies, bright golden sun, gentle breeze…

Why couldn't her mood match the weather?

She placed the pen on the desk next to her journal and rubbed her eyes. It was getting hard to write, hard to form coherent thoughts out of her jumbled emotions. She had never really struggled like this before, never had any problem at all filling the pages of her journal. Usually, the words just flowed from her fingers without any hesitation. But not now. Not anymore.

There was a dull throbbing in her head, an ache that didn't seem to want to leave.

She missed Max.

And the very thought of him filled her with anger.

Love was such a messed up thing.

She picked up the pen and started writing again.

_Michael ignores me whenever I am in the room. Which is better than the spiteful glares Isabel shoots my way. Sometimes, I want to remind her that Alex – her boyfriend – is alive because of me, because I refused to give up, because I kept pressing the need for an investigation of what really happened. If we had believed her story – her lies – Alex would still be in a coma. Or worse. And, anyway, Isabel was the one who convinced him to work on translating the Destiny Book and then _didn't_ tell any of us about it even after he was in the coma, so how dare she…_

She stopped again, and practically threw the pen onto the desk. Since when did her journal serve as a place to record diatribes against the very people she cared so much about?

She pushed back her chair and rose to her feet, stretching her sore muscles. She was exhausted, and the heat only made her even more tired and lethargic.

She put up with Michael ignoring her. It actually wasn't much different from how he treated everyone else nowadays. It was as though something had happened overnight, and now he only had eyes for Maria. And she was happy that Maria seemed so content in that relationship, given how screwed up everything else in their lives was. So she could ignore the fact that Michael was always ignoring her.

But with Isabel and Max… that was harder.

Everything about Max was harder.

The sound of footsteps on the floor caught her attention and she turned, quickly shutting her journal with one hand. A moment later, her mother walked into the room.

"Lizzie, your father and I are going out to a movie," Nancy Parker said softly. "Will you be alright on your own?"

Liz forced a smile. "I'll be fine," she promised. "Have fun."

Ms. Parker nodded and turned to go, but then paused at the doorway and looked back. She studied Liz for a long moment, observing her, and then said, "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Liz knew her smile was stretching painfully across her lips and wondered if it looked as fake as it felt. "Of course," she said. A lie. A complete and utter lie. She couldn't talk to her mother about this. She couldn't talk to anyone about this, because she couldn't tell her parents the truth, and the only people who did know about the aliens wouldn't be interested in listening.

Her mother nodded, her expression softening. "Alright then," she said, but there was something off in her voice, something that told Liz that she wasn't fooling anyone.

After her mother left, Liz grabbed her journal and walked over to her bed. Leaning back against the pillows, she flipped through the pages until she reached the end and reread the paragraph she had just written.

Instead of continuing with thoughts about Isabel, however, she started a new paragraph.

_My mother is hovering all the time. I think she knows that something is really wrong, even if she doesn't know what it is. She and Dad are afraid to leave me. As though I will run away or something. But there is nothing I can say to fix this, because they seemed to know when I am lying._

_Which is ironic, given that they apparently also have no idea I have been lying to them for the past two years._

She stopped, felt a shiver of something run down her spine. Her eyes moved automatically to the window, as though Max would come climbing through it any moment. But he didn't, and she knew he wouldn't. Not now. It was just her mind playing tricks on her, she reasoned. Just her subconscious wishes making her imagine things that wouldn't happen.

"It's not my fault," she said aloud, her words echoed in the empty room. "I didn't do this, I didn't kill Jim and put Alex in a coma. It isn't my fault."

There was no answer. Not that she had really been expecting one.

They hadn't wanted to help Alex. Even Isabel had been against investigating the supposed car accident, and she had _known_ what Alex was really doing at school that night. She had known he was working on the translation to the Destiny Book, and yet she, like Max, Michael, and Tess, had cared more about their safety, about keeping their heads down and avoiding catching anyone's attention, than they had about helping him.

They had gone after Tess when she was trapped in the white room. They had gone after Isabel when she had been captured by the skins. In fact, Michael had even driven to a different city and broken into a mental hospital to help a girl he didn't actually know. These were all actions that had attracted attention, that had put them in danger. And they'd done it anyway.

And yet they couldn't be bothered to help their friend? Why did it still feel like she was the only one who had _cared_?

She closed the journal and shoved it under one of her pillows, then flopped over onto her stomach. It was going to be a long summer.

* * *

Every single step was a challenge.

Of course, it didn't really help that all of his successes were punctuated by bitter bickering between his two companions.

"Can't you just get over it? It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal, Maria? _Really_?"

He swung his feet over the side of the bed and pressed his hands against the mattress. The world spun around him, making him suddenly dizzy and nauseous, but he forced himself to relax and wait for the feelings to fade. The doctors had told him that it would take a while before he was really ready to move around on his own, but he refused to simply lie in bed and wait.

He'd been in bed for too long already.

"Look, we fixed everything, Isabel. I don't get why you can't just get over…"

"We didn't fix everything. As Tess, and she'll tell you we didn't fix _anything_!"

He took a deep breath and pushed himself into a standing position. Almost instantly, pain rushed through his legs, and he wobbled about, his hands clutching at the wall and the railing of his bed to keep himself upright. He felt light-headed.

A quick look at his two companions confirmed what he had suspected – they had not noticed his momentary loss of coordination. They were too busy arguing with each other, and had apparently forgotten that they were supposed to be visiting him.

It was probably for the best, though. He didn't really want to be pulled into this conversation.

"Alex is alive. That's something, isn't it?"

"Yeah. And Liz _still_ blamed all of us for this and…"

"And what? Was she wrong? I mean, if you had just…"

"This is _Courtney's_ fault! _She_ did this, Maria! _She _i_s_ the one to blame!"

That last exclamation had been loud and high-pitched and filled with rage and fury and his head was starting to hurt from all the noise. He tried to ignore, looked down at his feet instead and took a tentative step forward.

And then another.

And another.

He let go of the railing on the bed, leaning his weight on the wall instead. Every step forward was progress, and he desperately needed that. He needed to focus on something. On anything that would get him away from these squabbling voices and the stories they referenced.

He'd been told what had happened, of course, and he still couldn't quite wrap his head around all of it. How could he have been put in a coma by someone they trusted?

How could Jim Valenti be dead?

"And all Liz was trying to do was save Alex. Which is more than I can say for some people."

"Figures you would take her side. Never mind the fact that she accused your _boyfriend_ of not caring about…"

"Leave Michael out of this!"

He hadn't wanted to do this, to translate the Destiny Book. And he certainly hadn't wanted to do it secretly, without telling anyone. But Isabel had said that Max and Michael would try to stop it, and she needed those answers. She had been near tears, begging him to help and…

And he knew better. He'd known better all along, and yet he'd let his love for her cloud his judgment, he'd gone along with a plan that was stupid and could backfire – _did_ backfire – because of her.

Because she had wanted it.

He took another step.

"Then stop acting like you and Liz didn't do anything wrong!"

"We _didn't_!"

He knew Isabel hadn't told anyone about the conversation they'd had when she asked for his help. He knew she was embarrassed about what she had done, and maybe even a little ashamed. She'd been so frantic for his help that she'd actually stooped to emotional blackmail…

_Please, Alex. I need this. I can't… I can't be myself without these answers. I'm too afraid. I can't… don't you see this is the only way I can be with you? This is the only chance. I can't… I can't trust myself otherwise, and I won't put you in danger. I can't be with you unless I know… unless we have that translation…_

He had no doubt that she meant every word she'd said, but that did nothing to ease the discomfort he felt when he thought about it. She had to have known that he would always want to be with her. She had to have known how he would react to her words. She'd have to have known how much it sounded like an ultimatum.

He took another step. His fingers slipped on the wall and lifted his other hand to catch himself but his vision was suddenly dimming and the floor was rushing up towards him…

"You dragged Maria on that stupid wild goose chase that nearly got you both killed!"

"And we discovered the truth about Courtney!"

…and he fell, hitting the ground with a jarring thud.

"Alex!"

Maria was at his side immediately, concern in her eyes as she helped him into a sitting position. He leaned his back against the wall, and Isabel hovered over him, holding a glass of water in one hand.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Maria demanded.

"Are you thirsty?" Isabel asked. "Do you need a nurse? Are you in pain?"

Alex gritted his teeth and shook his head. "I'm okay," he said through a clenched jaw, ignoring the spots that still danced through his vision.

He wasn't okay, though. Everything still hurt, and had hurt since the moment he had woken up. But it wasn't just the physical pain. When he closed his eyes, he saw Courtney. Some part of him was terrified of sleeping, in case he didn't wake up again. And his head was filled with too much information, too many problems he couldn't solve.

And everything around him seemed to be falling apart.

Isabel pressed the glass of water into his hands and he accepted it gratefully, but he couldn't quite meet her eyes. But that was okay, because she couldn't meet his, either.

"What were you doing?" Maria asked.

Alex took a sip of the water. "I was trying to walk," he answered honestly. "I was trying to… move forward." He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking.

Valenti was dead. Tess and Kyle were likely dealing with grief he couldn't even begin to comprehend. Amy DeLuca was unraveling, he'd been able to glean that much from Maria during one of her earlier visits. And the group was crumbling before his very eyes.

This wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

"Alex?" Isabel prompted softly.

He let out a breath and opened his eyes, stared blankly at the wall opposite him. "I'm okay," he said numbly. "I'm okay."

But when he finally met Isabel's eyes, he could see the disbelief in them. She knew he wasn't okay… and she wasn't okay either.

None of them were.

* * *

"What do you mean? How can you be leaving? You can't leave."

Although Isabel agreed completely with Michael's sentiment, she could see by the way Tess' eyes hardened that the hybrid General shouldn't have stated his opinion quite so… demandingly. But Michael didn't seem to notice, and was instead pacing back and forth across the small apartment that Tess had decided to rent.

"It's just for the summer," Tess said coldly. "I'm going to help Kyle get settled into his new place and then we're going to do a little site-seeing. You know, a vacation."

"But don't you need to get settled into your place, too?" Max asked, eyeing the boxes piled against the far wall.

Isabel glanced at her brother and saw the shadows under his eyes, the lines around his face. He looked exhausted, and every passing day seemed to make him more tired. The past few weeks had been draining for all of them, and the tension was still thick, their tempers still short, and rapidly fraying.

Tess chewed her lip. "I'll do that later. And everything else has been taken care of. You Dad has helped with getting the… my old house… sold and… and getting emancipation and everything." She stumbled slightly over the words, the cracks showing in her otherwise calm mask. She took a breath, then said, "When I come back, the realtor will have finalized the sale on that house."

"That's good," Isabel murmured. "I'm glad my Dad could help you." She leaned against the edge of the sofa. "It was nice you could get an apartment in the same building as Michael."

Tess shrugged. "Yeah, well… makes the most sense, I guess."

"Can we get back to the part of this conversation where you want to leave?" Michael snapped.

Tess stiffened as she look at him, but Isabel spoke up before she could answer, "He's right, Tess. What if… what if _they_ come?"

"The Royalist army? Aren't they supposed to be our allies?" Tess countered.

Isabel laughed incredulously. "And you suddenly trust that? You trust them?" She folded her arms over her chest, the words catching in her throat as she forced herself to say, "You can't just leave us right now."

"If you need me, if something happens, just call. I'll come back," Tess reasoned. "Anyway, it's just for the summer. It's not like I am moving away permanently."

"It's an entire army!" Michael said fiercely. "An _army_ is going to show up here, Tess."

"Our army," Tess answered. "You don't need me to be here for that."

"We do need you here if we go to war," Michael retorted angrily. "For God's sake, Tess, you have to realize the danger in that. We need you here, not running from…"

"I'm not running," Tess interjected, her tone angry, hard. Flat.

"Really?" Isabel couldn't help but drawl, the sarcasm dripping from her voice. "You've been avoiding us since…" She stopped, cutting off her words, unable to say the Sheriff's name, unable to stand witnessing the flash of pain that would surely make its way across all their faces. Instead, she said, "And now you're leaving Roswell for six weeks. It seems an awful lot like running."

"I want time off," Tess said.

"You can't take time off from being who you are," Michael answered, his voice quieter, more gentle. He scratched his eyebrow for a moment, his temper seemingly better under control, and added, "I'm just not sure this is a good idea right now. Not for any of us, not even you."

"I am perfectly capable of deciding what is a good idea for myself," Tess spat, splotches of color appearing on her pale cheeks. She had grown consistently more pale and withdrawn over the past weeks, but since Kyle had moved out of the house a few days earlier, Tess had become almost unrecognizable in her silence. It was unnerving.

Isabel blinked a few times, groped for the right words. Michael's face showed plainly his disappointment in Tess' decision, and Max just appeared to be in complete disbelief.

"You can't run from this," Isabel said. "You can't run from us. And don't deny that _that_ is exactly what you are doing. If you're going to leave, then at least do me the courtesy of not lying to my face."

A bitter smile tugged at the corners of Tess lips as she said in a dangerously soft voice, "Because, of course, you've never lied to us about _anything_."

Isabel inhaled sharply, Tess' words rendering her momentarily speechless. It was a low blow, but the other three still hadn't given up their anger for what she hadn't told them, so it didn't come as a surprise. Or, at least, it shouldn't have.

"We're a group, Tess," Max said. "We're family. And we're in this together, whether we like it or not. You leaving is just…"

"Just what?" Tess questioned, titling her chin up and glaring at him. "Just selfish? Just stupid? Just irresponsible? What is it, Max? Let's hear whatever insult you've got for me right now. I mean, all I am trying to do is figure out a way to get my life back in order after what just happened, but hey… if it conflicts with your plans, then it _has_ to be wrong."

"This isn't easy for any of us," Isabel said. "But we're _trying_."

"Yeah, and so am I. This _is_ me trying. Can't you see that?" A complete silence met Tess words, and she pushed on, "You can't make me stay, and you won't change my mind. So you can either accept it and get over it, or you can not. Either way, it isn't _my_ problem."

* * *

"So you really are leaving."

"Yes."

"Oh."

Tess moved away from the door to the apartment and focused again on the suitcase, on the clothing she was attempting to shove into it. Normally, she would fold everything neatly, place it in the luggage in an orderly fashion, but she just couldn't bring herself to do that. She couldn't bring herself to care.

"I thought… I mean, Maria told me that Michael had said you were leaving, but I didn't… I thought he must be wrong."

"He's not," Tess said, not sparing another glance for the person still hovering in the doorway. "Is there anything else you wanted, Liz?"

Liz shrugged. "I just thought… why? Why are you doing this?"

"Why do you care?" Tess shot back, straightening up and giving the brunette a haughty look. "Do you think maybe if you convince me to stay then Max will actually deign to talk to you again? Because I'm not sure interfering in _my_ life will help _him_ forgive you."

"I'm not asking for his forgiveness," Liz answered. "But they need you, Tess. All three of them. They need you to stay around and stay part of their family. I can't imagine what this is like for you right now, but I know that pretending you can avoid…"

"I'm not _avoiding_ anything!"

"You're avoiding them. When they need you the most, you are just walking away like they don't matter!"

"You chose Alex," Tess said, giving Liz a cold look. "You chose Alex, and yet you actually think you can come here and lecture me about…"

"You chose the Sheriff and Kyle," Liz snapped, her face flushing darkly. She walked further into the apartment, letting the door shut behind her, and Tess raised her eyebrows in surprise. No one had mentioned Jim around her in a few days, at least not by name. Even Isabel had been careful to make only allusions to her adopted father in their argument earlier that day.

But Liz didn't seem to notice that, or perhaps she just didn't care. She was angry, that much was obvious. But there was something else buried underneath the anger, and it took Tess a moment to recognize it as hurt.

"You _told_ us that, Tess, don't you remember? You stood in the Crashdown and told us that if you had to choose between Max, Michael, and Isabel, or Kyle and the Sheriff, you would choose the two of them." Liz stopped, then ran a hand through her hair and turned away from Tess, glaring at the window. "Maybe I did choose Alex, but you chose Kyle and the Sheriff, and you can't stand there and tell me that…"

"It doesn't matter though, does it?" Tess cut in sharply, interrupting Liz. "It doesn't matter if I said I would choose Jim, if I _wanted_ to put him first. It doesn't matter because he's still _dead_. He's dead, because of this. Because of _us_, because of _me_. I might not have wanted to put all of you first, but it was still Jim who paid for _our_ lies and _our_ messes. It was still _Jim_ who was sacrificed for this war."

"And you want Alex to join him? Is that it?" Liz questioned.

"Do you really think that I would…" Tess started, but Liz pressed on, not waiting to hear the full reply.

"Of course not," the brunette said. "You would never want Alex dead. But you weren't thinking about Alex. You were thinking about the Sheriff, and only about him. He was all that mattered to you." She paused, studied Tess' face, waiting just long enough for Tess to figure out where her point was going, and then said, "Can you blame me if Alex was the only person that mattered to me? I thought he was going to die. He would have, too."

Tess opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it shut. There really wasn't anything to say to that. And she couldn't deny that Liz had a point. Out of the group, she was the one who best knew what it was like to only be able to focus on one thing, one event, one person.

She sat down on the sofa and pulled idly at a loose curl. "What did you want from me?" she asked finally. "When you came here, what were you expecting? After two years, you have to know by now that you won't be able to talk me out of leaving."

Liz hesitated, then said, "I guess I'm a slow learner."

Tess laughed, unable to keep back the almost-crazy sound that escaped from her throat. Liz looked startled by that response, but the petite alien didn't care. There was something about the earnest look on Liz's face, coupled with those slightly sardonic words, that simply struck Tess as amusing.

"I'll see you in a six weeks, Liz," Tess said.

"Tess, please… just think about…"

"I already thought about this," Tess said flatly. "And since you were the one to remind me that I once told you I would pick Kyle over all of you, you really can't be surprised that now I am doing just that."

She thought of Isabel, of her righteous anger and indignation. Of the disappointment on Michael's face, of the disbelief in Max's gaze. They had all been so convinced that she was running from them, from Jim's death and Courtney's betrayal, from everything that had happened. Somehow, they couldn't see that she wasn't running _from_ anything.

She was running _to_ something.

"He's my brother," Tess murmured. "And he's just moved away from the only home he's known after losing his father to a murdering alien. You, Max, Michael, Isabel… you all say how much you need me to stick around, that we need to be a group right now. Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, I'm doing this because I think Kyle needs me more?"

Liz didn't answer.

Tess hadn't really been expecting it.

"I'll see you in six weeks, Liz," the blonde repeated.

Liz nodded and moved towards the door. Her expression had changed from one of frustration to a more sympathetic look, and when she offered an almost diffident smile, Tess couldn't help but wonder if perhaps, finally, one person seemed to get why she needed to spend the summer with Kyle.

It was somewhat ironic, then, that the acceptance would come from one of the few people whose opinions she didn't really care about.

"Have a good time, Tess," Liz said, pausing at the door long enough to deliver the parting words. "Say hello to Kyle for me." A bitter smile tugged at her lips for a moment, and then she added, "Be sure to come home."

Tess watched silently as Liz then walked from the apartment. Once she was alone again, she lifted her eyes to the ceiling and said softly, "Without Jim and Kyle, I'm not so sure Roswell is still home."

* * *

Next Chapter: The Medical Miracle

Due: Sun 9/5


	2. The Medical Miracle

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: To answer a couple of things that came up in reviews/messages... First of all, this is definitely the last story in this series, I don't plan on continuing beyond Season Three. Second, the first few chapters will start off a bit slower than usual, with the real action picking up later. For that reason, I am going to attempt posting a bit faster in the beginning. And third, I know that the correct spelling of Khivar is Kivar. I added the 'h' before I was aware of how it was actually spelled, and because I have been using that spelling for so long, and in all of my stories, I plan to stick with it. I don't think there is really any point in the series where we see Khivar's name spelled out on the screen, so I am not worried that the incorrect addition of the 'h' is too non-canon. But all that being said, if you are looking for the right spelling, drop the 'h.'

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Two: The Medical Miracle

Michael pushed his spoon back and forth in his bowl of cereal and stared at the newspaper on the table before him. He wasn't someone who paid much attention to the happenings in the rest of the world, not unless he knew for certain that it would affect him and his family. Unfortunately, he was starting to worry about the possibilities of their secret coming too close to being exposed, and so he had started subscribing to the local paper.

It smelled odd, like… paper. But paper that was warm and new fresh from a printing press. Did all newspapers smell like that?

Well, it probably had been printed recently.

The tips of his fingers were dark with smudged ink from flipping through the pages. Every morning for the past few days had been like this, and he had yet to figure out how to _not_ end up with ink residue on his skin. Didn't people know to let the ink _dry_ before delivering it?

He was starting to hate newspapers.

And today… today he hated them even more than usual.

He set his spoon aside, cereal forgotten, and focused instead on the article before him. It was small, only a few paragraphs, shoved in between several other more prominent headlines. It was almost as though the article wasn't deemed important enough to have its own space, but instead it was relegated to filling up the extra space of others.

Still… it was there. In print. In a newspaper that almost all the adults in Roswell read.

He reached automatically for the phone. His first instinct was to call Max, but he hesitated for a fraction of a second. The past week had been hard on all of them, but Max had withdrawn even more than Michael had expected. He was harder to talk to now, and even harder to listen to.

It didn't matter, though, because this was important. This was something they all had to know, had to discuss.

He dialed Max's number and was rewarded by a groggy, "What?" after three rings.

"Maxwell. We've got a problem."

There was a momentary pause from the other end of the line, then Max's voice came again, this time a bit sharper, though still a little grumpy. "When do we ever not have a problem? What's going on this time?"

Michael looked back at the newspaper. "There's an article in _The Roswell Times_," he said grimly, "about Alex."

"_The Roswell Times_? Wait, the _newspaper_?"

"Yes, the newspaper," Michael said, exasperation coloring his voice. "What did you think I meant?"

"What does it say?" Max asked with a yawn.

"That he made a miraculous recovery from a car accident that should have killed him," Michael answered. "It's not that long, you can read it yourself."

"Okay. Well, yeah. Fine," Max mumbled, his words distant as though he was lost in thought. He'd been this way for a while, and some part of Michael couldn't help but wonder if this distance was because of the break-up with Liz. Because of the argument that had nearly split the group apart.

He didn't ask Max, though. He didn't encourage _that_ particular of conversation.

He wasn't going to waste his time giving advice – particularly not _relationship_ advice – to anyone, least of all Max, who was unlikely to listen. And he wasn't sure what he would say, even if he did want to start the discussion. But this moody, gloomy, and occasionally _very_ angry Max was starting to grate on his nerves more than all the other versions he'd had to put up with in the past.

"Maxwell? You still with me?" Michael demanded when Max didn't say anything else.

"Yeah. So what? It doesn't say anything about the rest of us, does it?"

"No, but that's not the point," Michael protested.

"That's exactly the point, Michael," was Max's suddenly heated reply. His voice took on an edge, and Michael bit back a groan and rubbed his forehead with one hand, trying to keep his own temper in check. "So they figured out that Alex didn't die," Max continued. "As long as we don't give them anything else to report on, the story will die down. We just have to wait it out. It's no big deal, anyway. People make miraculous recoveries all the time."

"Yeah, but usually they were healed by alien powers," Michael snapped. "With the war coming…"  
"We don't know that it's coming, Michael."

"You're living in denial," Michael said flatly.

"Well, what do you want me to say? It's not like I can ask Tess to track down every reporter in the state and mind-warp them into not caring about Alex. It's a feel-good story, people want to see that a teenage boy who was supposed to die ended up living. They want to believe in God or whatever."

Michael wanted to be understanding, he _really_ did. Because, no matter what Max said, they both knew a war was coming, and an army of aliens might show up in Roswell any minute. An army that Max was supposed to command. No doubt this knowledge was weighing heavily on Max, and that, combined with the tension between the alien king and both his sister and ex-girlfriend, was what was causing him to react with blunt denial.

But it was hard to be understanding, because this affected all of them, not just Max, and his refusal to face the facts was absurd. An army was coming, a war was coming, and they had to be prepared.

"There is nothing to find, Michael, as long as we don't give them something to find."

Michael rolled his eyes, even though he knew Max couldn't see it. "There will be. We can keep ourselves hidden, but the skins and the… the Royalists? Are they going to be careful?" He paused, then pressed onwards, "I think we should ask Tess to come back."

"She's been gone two days. And she made it very clear that she didn't want to come back unless it was an emergency."

"This _is_ an emergency!"

"No, it's not!" Max said forcefully, the volume and tone of his voice indicating just how angry he was. "This is just you panicking over something we knew would happen eventually. Michael, what do you think we can do? What's the point in calling Tess? Do you actually have a _plan_?"

Michael started pacing, his movements jerky, his body filled with pent-up frustration. "I'm just saying…" he started, but Max cut him off.

"I know what you're saying," Max said. "You're saying that you want us to do something, but you don't know what that something is. You're reacting against _everything_ I'm saying without even thinking it through. You want a new plan, a _better_ plan, but you don't have a _damn clue_ what to do. So what do you want from me?"

"I want you to lead."

"I _am_ leading. _This_ is my plan."

"Doing nothing?"

"Yes!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Michael slammed the phone down without really think about it. He hadn't exactly planned on hanging up on Max, but it was too late to undo it. For a moment, he debated calling Tess, but he knew she would side with Max on this one. Not because he was right, of course, but because she didn't want to come back to Roswell yet.

And if there was an emergency and she wasn't around…

He shuddered to think about what would happen without her to help them. His ability to make things explode and Isabel's dream-walking with both useful gifts, but in a fight, it was Tess' mind-warp and Max's healing that would be the most useful.

He slumped onto the sofa, his breakfast forgotten. It was seven-thirty in the morning during summer vacation and he was wide awake, full of energy, and feeling completely useless.

It was going to be a long few months.

* * *

"Mr. Whitman? This is David SinClair from _The Santa Fe Times_. Do you have a moment to talk?"

Whatever Alex had been expecting when the phone in his hospital room rang, it was not that. It was his last day in the hospital, and he'd been hoping that maybe it was Maria or Liz or one of his parents or someone telling him they were on their way to pick him up. He _hated_ being stuck in this too-white room, in this too-sterile bed. He needed to get out of there.

But it wasn't one of his friends, it was his parents. It was a reporter.

"Sorry, no," Alex said politely, his fingers curling tightly around the phone.

"Just a couple questions," the reporter pressed on, ignoring Alex's words. "Everyone is eager to know how you feel. You're a medical miracle, it seems."

"I'm happy to be alive," Alex said, "but I really need to go now."

"Just one question…" the reporter started.

"Goodbye," Alex cut in, and hung up the phone.

He stared at it for a long time, wondering if he had done the right thing. Should he have at least humored the reporter for a little bit, tried to convince the other man that there was nothing unusual about this, no story worth reporting. Or would that have been too dangerous? Would it have only encouraged more reporters, more investigations, more questions he didn't want to answer?

And yet, didn't hanging up make it seem like he had something to hide?

He'd have to tell Max, of course. But the hybrid King had been moody and distant these past several days, and Alex wasn't really sure he wanted to have a conversation with him.

And then there was Isabel, and Alex felt both guilt and anger in his stomach when he thought of her. Things were too awkward and he didn't know what he was supposed to think, how he was supposed to feel, about everything that had happened.

Maybe that was a side-effect of having his brain scrambled by an evil alien.

Maybe he would wait until Maria or Liz came to visit. One of them would surely come by today, and he could tell them, and they could pass the bit of information on to the others. It wasn't like there was any particular rush on this, everyone knew that reporters would be calling him. Stories of his miraculous recovery were already in the newspaper, he'd seen one earlier that day.

Which, of course, begged the question how did the reporter get the information? Weren't medical records supposed to be _private_? But, of course, a determined reporter could probably find anything he or she wanted in this town, people were too talkative to keep secrets.

Alex leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes, took a deep breath. The worry continued to churn in his gut.

* * *

They were setting the table.

It was almost dinner time, and they were setting the table.

The skins could be regrouping, Khivar could be coming up with another nefarious plan, the Royalist army could be on the outskirts of Roswell… and they were setting the table.

It was ironic, Isabel thought to herself and she carefully arranged the forks and knives at each setting, that for the past over eleven years, she had wanted nothing more than to be normal, to do normal things, to fit in. And now that they were actually doing something normal – setting the table – instead of dealing with the various impending crises that were sure to come crashing down on them at any minute…

It made her want to scream.

Her mother was cooking a stir fry, keeping a watchful eye on the vegetables and chicken in the skillet. The air was thick was tension and a strained silence, neither woman entirely sure what to say to the other. Though Isabel was thankful that she had not been flatly rejected by either of her parents, this uneasiness was hard to bear.

"You know," Diane said abruptly, turning and looking at Isabel, "you don't have any plans for the summer."

Isabel looked up from the table, eyebrows raised. "So?"

"You used to love the summer," Diane said, a bit wistfully. "We would sign you up for so many things. You never liked overnight camps, but during the day…" she trailed off, smiling to herself. "Swim lessons, art camp, theater camp… once we even sent you to a nature camp, but you didn't like it as much."

Isabel rolled her eyes. "Wonder why," she muttered under her breath. She remembered that camp, remembered how much she'd hated it. She'd been nine or ten at the time, and everyone else had been eagerly digging in the dirt for all kinds of bugs, or climbing rocks to look at the plants that grew in the crevices, or collecting different kinds of rocks. There was even one day when they went out to Frasier Wood and collected mushrooms and other fungi to look at underneath microscopes borrowed from the school…

She'd found it all rather disgusting.

"I haven't done anything like that in a while, Mom," Isabel said softly.

"Maybe you should," Diane suggested. "Maybe you should try to make your summer routine more…"

"Normal?" Isabel cut in, her voice sharp. "I think that's always going to be out of the question."

Diane let out a breath. "I was going to say more like what it used to be."

"When I was ten?" Isabel said, rolling her eyes. "I'll pass, but thanks."

"Or maybe get a job?" Diane pressed. "You know, even your brother has one and…"  
"At the UFO Center?" Isabel shook her head. "Mom, he only has that job because Brody thinks that Max was once abducted by aliens."

Diane opened her mouth, seem to realize that she had nothing to say in response to that, and snapped it shut. She looked a bit startled, and only finally managed, "Oh. Okay." If she was at all interested in hearing more of that story, she did not press for details.

She turned back to the stove and pushed the vegetables around in the skillet with the end of her spatula. Isabel watched her for a long moment, thinking that she should say something else, but not sure what to say.

All her relationships seemed to be like this, seemed to be filled with long silences and faint regrets. Max was withdrawing from everyone, lost in his own problems, and Michael was spending so much time with Maria that he barely even spoke to her anymore. Tess was gone for the summer, although that was not entirely unexpected. And Alex…

She couldn't talk to Alex. She didn't know what to say to him. When she had first told him everything, he had said he wasn't mad at her. How could he blame her, when he had agreed to go along with the plan? But she knew it wasn't that simple, and every time she was in his hospital room, there was something off about the way he looked at her, like he didn't quite know who she was anymore.

Maybe he didn't.

She wasn't entirely sure she knew who she was anymore.

"Do you know when your brother will be home?" Diane asked, interrupting Isabel's thoughts.

Isabel shook her head. "I don't know, I haven't talked to him. Where is he?"

Diane shrugged and said, "He didn't tell me where he was going." And though she still had her back to Isabel, the hybrid Princess was certain that her mother's expression would be one of concern.

Isabel closed her eyes, drew a long breath, then opened them again. Diane had moved over to the cupboard and was pulling out a few different spices.

"I'm sure he will be back for dinner," she murmured at last.

Knowing Max, he was probably off wandering through the town, or maybe even standing in the alley outside of Liz's window, trying to work up the strength to talk to her. Trying to figure out if he _wanted_ to talk to her. He'd been doing that a lot lately, and once or twice, she'd caught sight of him walking aimlessly through the park, so deep in thought that he would only narrowly avoid running into trees, benches, and people.

Diane nodded. "Good. He likes this stir fry."

Isabel chewed her lip, looked away. Max liked the stir fry so much because their mother would dump an incredible amount of spice into it, too much for most normal people to handle. She wondered if her mother knew that, if she'd ever noticed that they put hot sauce on everything and mixed extra sugar into their yogurt.

Another thing that made them different.

Again, Isabel groped for the right words to say, and came up with nothing.

* * *

He knew a little about Pierce.

Not much, of course, but a little. He knew that the FBI agent's father had also been FBI, and had been killed by someone – or something. He knew that had caused the younger FBI agent to seek revenge. He'd formed the Special Unit, worked his way so far up the hierarchy within the Bureau that he was practically untouchable, and then had begun to systematically track what he considered to be supernatural events and people.

Pierce had also been discredited in the end, but that was less important to the task at hand.

The nondescript man in the nondescript room looked down at the files in front of him. It hadn't been easy to get his hands on these, not with the old army base destroyed and most of Pierce's reputation in ruins. Most of these files had been censored or destroyed after the debacle with Pierce last year, and what was left was vague and unclear.

None of this had really interested him until last year. He didn't care about Pierce or the others in the Special Unit, and was content to accept all the official explanations for how that agent had spiraled so far out of control. There seemed to be no other dangers, and that was what mattered the most.

But then there had been a few odd occurrences. An old, abandoned factory outside of Roswell that had been destroyed. An explosion in a backyard that had gone unnoticed by almost everyone in the neighborhood. A fight at a compound in the desert that had left behind nothing but pieces of strange-looking shed skin.

It had given him pause, and he had started looking for answers. Clues to this strange puzzle of pieces that didn't quite seem to fit together into any discernible pattern.

And there was something in these files, something worth reading.

Events. Dates. Theories. Ideas. Possibilities.

Names.

The man looked at the newspaper that lay discarded on the floor. He'd bought it that morning, rolling his eyes at the appalling lack of well-written news in this small town, and had cast it aside almost immediately. But there had been one article that caught his eye and now, as he looked down at the files, he couldn't help but wonder…

He picked up the paper again and flipped quickly to the article in question. So Alex Whitman had spontaneously woken up from a coma despite the fact that all his doctors had predicted his death.

He looked at the file, at the article, back at the file.

There was something here. Something worth investigating.

* * *

Next Chapter: Children

Due: Wed 9/8


	3. Children

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: To the best of my knowledge, it is not discussed on the show whether or not Philip and Diane were able to have biological children. For this story, I've made it so that Diane was not able to get pregnant. Consequently, they were ecstatic to be able to adopt.

Also, as a reminder… on the show and in my story, Brody is convinced that he's been abducted because he used to have some kind of cancer in his bones, and then after the abduction it was all gone. In my story, his obsession with aliens is in part an attempt to find the people who cured him so that they can help his daughter fight her cancer.

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Three: Children

He knew he shouldn't have been eavesdropping.

It wasn't an ethical issue, because Max had bent his own morals enough times in the past to find something as simple as spying almost pitifully easy to justify. When it came to his survival and the survival of people he cared about, he was willing to make some exceptions to his own ethics without much hesitation.

The issue, at least for him, was that some part of him really didn't want to hear whatever was being said.

He could tell his mother was near tears. Her voice wavered, and occasionally her words choked, as though she was biting back a sob. There was a tension there, a strain that went beyond the normal stress of day-to-day life.

His father was harder to read. His voice was louder, angrier. But there was something underneath it, a current of fear and unease. The anger appeared to be more of a cover than anything else, a way to avoid facing the reality of his doubts.

Max did not like that his mother was in tears and he did not like that his father was angry and he did not like the fact that he was almost positive that he and his sister were the reason for it.

Both his parents were in the kitchen, and he hovered just out of sight around the corner of the hallway, listening. Every instinct told him to leave, the little voices in the back of his mind screaming that he did not want to hear this. But he couldn't get his feet to move, and as his parents' voice raised in volume, he let the words wash over him.

"…really can't take this much longer, Philip. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to make this better, how to fix it, but I know it has to be fixed. I can't keep pretending like everything is okay, like this doesn't scare me."

"I know."

"Do you? Really? You aren't around during the day, and you don't see the way Isabel looks at me." A pause, the sound of shuffling footsteps, a chair being pulled out from the table, scraping across the floor as someone sat down. "It's like I don't even know them anymore."

"Diane… I know, alright? I know what you are feeling because I feel it, too. It's like…"

"They don't feel like my children anymore."

Max reeled back at his mother's words, his breath catching in his throat. He opened his mouth for a moment, almost wanting to cry out to them, but then he stopped. What would he say? What could he say?

"Yesterday, Isabel could barely even talk to me. I tried to start a conversation, but she didn't… _we_ didn't know what to say to each other. It's been that way with Max in the past, and I always brushed it off because he's a boy and… and it's _normal_ for boys to eventually stop sharing everything with their mother. But Izzy… she's _mine_. She's always been mine, and maybe we never really talked about the big issues, but… it never felt like she couldn't talk to me. Not like it did last night."

There was a long pause, then Philip said in a hard voice, "I just want them to be truthful with us."

"They're _not_, Philip. And they haven't been in a very long time," Diane murmured a tired reply. "I guess… really… they were never honest with us. And I want to say that it is in the past and it doesn't matter, but it does. It _does_. I just wish they could have trusted us enough to tell us."

Max leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. For a moment, he could imagine himself as a six-year-old, still convinced that Mommy could fix everything. Even then, though, he'd kept his gifts a secret. Even when he so vehemently believed that his parents could protect him from everything in the world, he'd still somehow felt the need to keep this from them.

Would they ever get past that?

"When I tried to talk to Isabel… it was about silly things. Summer camps and after school jobs. But she kept… it's like she defaulted to alien things, and then would get… closed off. Defensive. Like… she didn't want to talk about it. And then there is Max, and God only knows where he is going or what he is doing these days. I just want… I just want my children back."

_But we _are_ your children_, Max wanted to shout. The words built up in his throat, but he swallowed them back again, refusing to announce his presence. Refusing to admit to the fact that he was spying on them now.

"Philip, do you ever wonder… do you ever ask yourself… what it would have been like if I… if I'd been able to get pregnant?"

By this time, the strength had drained out of Max entirely, and he sank to the floor, pulling his knees into his chest. His mother's voice, so diffident, so unsure, echoed in his mind, over and over. Like a recording, words he couldn't ignore, couldn't get rid of.

His father's answer, when it came, was blunt.

"Yes."

"Did you… before all this…"

"Did I think about it before I found out that my children are only part-human?" There was a silence, then the sound of Philip pacing with loud, jarring steps. "Yes. Often. I'm a lawyer, after all. It's my job to wonder about all the different scenarios, the what-ifs… I've thought about since we first found out that you _couldn't_ get pregnant."

"And?"

Philip's answered was suddenly loud and passionate. "And I always reached the same conclusion. It didn't matter. I didn't care. I didn't want the children you may or may not have had. I wanted the children I _already_ had. Max and Isabel. They were ours, they'd been ours since the moment we saw them wandering in the desert. All the what-ifs, all the hypothetical children… they meant nothing when weighed against the children I actually had. The real ones, the ones made of flesh and blood, even if it wasn't biologically my flesh and blood."

"Oh…"

There was a long silence after that, and Max slowly stood up again, sure that the conversation was over and there was nothing left to hear. He debated entering the kitchen, but he didn't want to face his parents right now, not after hearing that. He didn't really know what to think, how to react to everything he had heard, and if he had to look them in the eye…

He turned to go.

"I never thought about it."

Diane's voice stopped him. It was soft, barely more than a whisper. He glanced towards the kitchen again, holding his breath.

"Once I had Max and Isabel, I just simply forgot about all the dreams I'd had of a little girl who looked exactly like me and a little boy who looked exactly like you. I had them, and nothing else mattered. After we found them, I never wondered what it would be like to have biological children." Another long, drawn-out pause. "Until now."

"Diane…"

"I love Max and Isabel. And I… I will kill anything and anyone that threatens them if I have to." There was an edge to her voice now, a bitterness, a hardness that was so unlike her, it took Max completely by surprise. "I know they think they are protecting us, but I won't sit this out, I won't let them fight it alone. I love them, more than they could possibly understand. I love them more than… more than even I ever thought it would be possible to love another person."

She sighed, loud enough for Max to hear. He could picture her face perfectly, the tears in her eyes that hadn't fallen yet, the too-pale skin, the shadows left behind as reminders of how little she was sleeping. He'd studied her a few times over the past week – always when she was unaware of his gaze – and had come to the conclusion that his mother was falling apart.

But he'd had no idea how to stop it then, just as he had no idea how to stop it now.

"But they don't feel like my children anymore, Philip. It's like… like I am losing them. Like I've already lost them. I don't know how to fix that, how to change it. And I can't keep pretending like I'm okay with it."

Max turned and walked away. He didn't want to hear anymore, not when there wasn't anything he could do to fix it. They were stuck like this, forever trying to sort out their relationships. It was some cruel twist of fate that every time he thought things were finally going right, they just ended up falling apart all over again.

He was getting sick of it.

* * *

"So… this Alex Whitman is a friend of yours, right?"

Max froze, his hand extended over the poster he was arranging on the table, and gave Brody a wary look. "Uh… yeah. He is. Why?"

Brody shrugged with a would-be casual expression and said, "No reason."

Max nodded once, then turned back to what he was doing. He was in the process of arranging another exhibit – an educational one on the chemical properties of various compounds that made up the mass of most stars – to go along with all the conspiracy theories that lined the walls. So far, he had arranged the poster and pamphlets several times, and still couldn't get it quite right for the UFO Center owner.

It was unlike Brody to be this picky, but he'd been acting strange all day, and it worried Max.

"You know," Brody continued, "it was pretty miraculous that he woke up from that coma. I heard he wasn't expected to make it."

Max bit his lip for a moment, debating his response, then turned to face the eccentric older man. "That's what the doctor said. But he did wake up, so the prediction was wrong. Which we are all very glad about."

He knew there was an edge to his words, one that was entirely undeserved. But he couldn't help it, the very mention of Alex's near-miss was too much for him to take calmly. It made his blood run cold and his heart start hammering in his chest every time he thought about what Courtney had done. What she was still doing to them even now, even though she was gone.

"Of course," Brody agreed quickly, almost apologetically. He regarded Max thoughtfully, then said, "But still… it was… unexpected."

"So?" Max questioned.

Something akin to annoyance flashed through Brody's eyes and he leaned forward, his expression becoming intense. "Oh, come on, Max. Don't tell me you haven't wondered."

"Wondered _what_ exactly?"

"Did they heal him?" Brody said. "Did they fix him, did they help him?" He began to pace, his movements agitated. "I've searched for _years_ for an explanation for what happened to me. Years, because I wanted to find the people who had cured me and have them help my daughter as well. And now Alex Whitman wakes up from a coma after a car accident that was supposed to kill him… It can't be a coincidence, Max. It just _can't_."

Max ran a hand through his hair. He honestly had no idea what to say to that. He didn't view Brody as a threat, and hadn't in over a year. And he understood why Brody so desperately wanted answers, wanted to find out the truth about extraterrestrial life. In fact, he himself had wanted to heal Sydney on more than one occasion.

But this was a problem. This time, Brody was getting too close to the truth, to secrets that Max couldn't afford to have spilled right now.

"Some times miracles happen," he said finally. "Some times, people just wake up."

Brody gave Max an incredulous look. "You don't believe that," he said. "You can't. Max, you were abducted, too. You _know_ what is out there."

He turned his back and Max and started shuffling papers around, rearranging some of the newspaper clippings he had displayed. For a moment, no one said anything, and the silence was heavy and thick with tension.

Then Brody said in a quiet voice, "It should have been her."

"What should have been her?" Max asked before he could stop himself. He thought he already knew the answer, and he didn't particularly want to have this conversation because he had no idea what he would say.

"They should have healed Sydney!" Brody snapped, suddenly throwing his arm out and knocking the newspapers off the table in one sweeping motion. His spun around to face Max, splotches of color on his cheeks. "They've abducted me, possessed me, taken me to God only knows where and what have I got in return? Nothing. _Nothing_. All I want is for my daughter to be healthy. It should have been her they chose to heal. It should have been her."

Max didn't answer. He had never seen his boss lose his temper so thoroughly, so completely, and was having a hard time reconciling the odd but generally harmless man he had known with the figure before him. Brody was literally shaking with anger.

There was a moment of quiet, then Brody turned on his heel and marched into his back room, slamming the door shut behind him. For a few minutes after that, Max stood absolutely still, staring at the spot the UFO Center owner had stood. Then he reached down and picked up the fallen newspaper clippings, placed them on the table, and turned back to work.

He had tried to heal Sydney once, and failed. He'd been about to try a second time, and Liz had stopped him, reminded him of the risk of exposure. For Alex, he had taken that risk. For Alex, he had put his safety and the safety of his entire family on the line…

For Sydney, he had done nothing.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the empty room. "I'm really, really… sorry."

* * *

"Lizzie, come sit down a minute."

Liz frowned at her father, but obeyed the request and sank into the armchair opposite him. She could see her mother hovering in the doorway of the kitchen, apparently prepared to listen to the conversation that was about to take place, and could not help but wonder what her father wanted.

"You've seemed a little… on edge… these past couple weeks," Jeff Parker said.

Liz let out a breath. "Everything with Alex," she started, and then couldn't think of the right way to finish it, and ended up just shrugging.

"Yes, of course," Jeff agreed. "But it isn't just that. Liz, your mother and I have noticed that this past year seems to have been… a challenge… for you."

"A challenge?" Liz repeated, eyebrows raised. "I got straight-As, Dad."

"Yes," Jeff agreed. "Your grades are good." He looked down, and it was then that she noticed he held a packet in his hands. He seemed to contemplate it for a long moment, then he looked at his daughter once more and pressed on, "It is other things that I am concerned about. Are you and Maria getting along well? And Alex?"

"I… what? Yeah… we're fine, Dad," Liz stammered, completely bewildered by the question.

"And Max?" Jeff asked, and though he pretended as though he was simply tacking that question on to the others, Liz could see the telltale flicker of suspicion in his eyes.

"Max and I are getting along fine," she said in a clipped tone.

"Are you? Really?" Jeff said, leaning forward. "And you're getting along with his friends, too? Isabel Evans and Michael Guerin?"

Liz swallowed back the urge to say something rather unflattering about Isabel. Instead, she nodded mutely and looked away, trying not to fixate on the way the hybrids had so effectively pushed her out of the group this past month.

"It seems like you've had a rollercoaster year, Lizzie," Jeff said. "We've seen it. We've seen you get distracted, upset, angry… hurt. I know you care about these people. I know you care about them deeply. But I can't help but worry that your relationship with Max…"

"It's none of your business, Dad," Liz snapped.

Jeff paused, looking surprised by her outburst. She instantly regretted it, but it was too late to take it back. Behind her father, she could see her mother standing in the doorway of the kitchen, eyes widened.

Jeff let out a long breath. "It is, Liz. You are my daughter and that makes anything that has the potential to hurt you _my_ business."

Nancy walked into the room. "You know we only want what is best for you."

Liz licked her lips. "I know, Mom," she replied.

"But you spend nights out without telling us, you get moody more easily… I know these are all normal teenage things, but… it isn't you, Liz. This entire year, it has felt like you were being pulled away from… from who you are. And this past month has really worried us. I know that it has been hard for you with Alex in the hospital, and we aren't denying that all the pain and hurt and fear you felt over that was very real. But there have been other things. Things mostly relating to your relationship with Max. It doesn't seem… healthy."

They'd had this conversation before. In fact, Liz thought with a wry grin, her parents weren't the only ones who thought this. Trudy McIntire had once expressed concern about Liz's relationship with Max. And she could hardly fault them for thinking what they did, she knew what this all looked like from the outside. But how could she ever hope to explain it to them without exposing the four hybrids? They simply wouldn't understand.

She knew Max had treated her like dirt while under the influence of Zan. She knew all the times he had broken up with her, thinking himself too dangerous to be around. She knew all the times something about him had made her cry. But without telling her parents that they were fighting a war against the FBI and a planet of enemy aliens…

What was she supposed to say?

"You have so much potential, Lizzie," Nancy said, coming to sit down next to Jeff. "And we want to see you reach it. We want to see you become the amazing woman that we know you are, deep down. But… we also want you to be happy. And we're really concerned that this isn't the right environment for you."

"Yeah, but… where can I go?" Liz pointed out logically. "This is Roswell. It's not that big."

Jeff held out the packet he'd been fiddling with during the conversation. "I dug up some information I thought might interest you."

She looked down on it, felt her mouth drop open in shock.

"Boarding schools? On the _East Coast_?"

"They're very good schools, Liz. Prestigious, academically rigorous. They'll all position you well for Harvard or anything else you want." Jeff reached out and placed his hand on her arm. "More importantly, it will be a chance for you to get away from all of this for a little while. To make a fresh start."

Liz looked at her father, then down at the brochures for several different boarding schools. "I… Dad, I can't. Roswell is my home."

But even as she said the words, she couldn't deny the fact that there was something appealing about the idea of taking a break from everything, of starting over. Starting clean. It wasn't like she was needed here, Max and Isabel had both made that perfectly clear. So what reason did she really have to stay?

"Just think about it, Liz. Okay?"

She glanced up at both her parents and nodded. "Okay. I'll think about it."

* * *

It turned out to be the littlest of things that left her completely undone.

As usual, tension between Isabel and her parents was palpable in the air every time they were in a room together, and Max had apparently decided to steer clear of the same issue by avoiding her completely. And though it all should have bothered her, she brushed it off and tried to focus on the days tasks.

Today, she wanted to think about the future. Today, she wanted to plan for the next step in her life.

College.

With that determination, she had printed out copies of several college applications. They'd been easy enough to fill out, and she'd read over them, made notes of things she would need to complete in the next couple months, and then had come to the essay section.

Most of the applications asked for a personal statement. She wasn't entirely sure what that meant or what they were looking for, and she'd added it to the list of questions to ask the guidance counselor when school started up in the fall.

But once school – University of Chicago, which she was really only looking at on a whim – requested a page long response to the simple question: who are you?

And somehow, after reading that, Isabel had fallen apart.

She was sitting on the floor of her room now, staring blankly at the wall opposite her, and trying to figure out how to answer that question. Her vision was blurry, swimming with tears that came out of nowhere and took her by surprise. She slowly clenched and unclenched her fingers, and was dimly aware of the fact that her nails were occasionally biting into the skin of her palm.

Who was she?

She knew who she wanted to be, and she knew who she was terrified of becoming. But did she actually know who she was at the moment?

How could one simple, stupid question throw her like this? Why did it make her heart beat faster, her breath come in short gasps. Why did the pounding headache increase, refusing to leave her alone?

She was Isabel Evans. She was half-human, half-alien. She was the sister of Max Evans, the daughter of Diane and Philip Evans. She was the betrothed of General Rath, the daughter of a Queen and King, the princess of a planet.

What did it all mean? What did it all matter?  
Who _was_ she?

She reached for the phone, dialing the number quickly. She wanted to talk to Alex, wanting to hear his voice at the other end of the phone line offering reassuring words. She wanted to relax in his confidence and his concern. She wanted to know that he knew who she was.

It wasn't until she heard his voice at the other end of the line that she remembered just how strained things were between the two of them at the moment. It wasn't until she said his name and it got stuck in her throat that she realized that maybe she wasn't going to get any of what she wanted from him after all.

"Hello?"

"Alex."

A pause. "Isabel. How are you?"

"I'm okay," she answered, trying and failing to keep her voice steady. It shook almost uncontrollably, as did her fingers as they closed around the phone. But Alex didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't comment on it.

"That's good."

There was a long pause, and Isabel floundered for the right words. She abruptly couldn't remember why she had called him, what she wanted to tell him, what she wanted from him. The college applications were still spread out all around her, and she stared at them blankly, groping for something to say.

"What are you doing now?" she asked inanely.

"Just lying in bed. I… I came home today, you know, so…"

"You left the hospital?" Isabel demanded, surprised. "I… I didn't know. You didn't tell me you were leaving."

"Yes. The doctors released me." There was something questioning in Alex's words, but Isabel couldn't figure it out until he asked bluntly, "If you didn't know I'd been released, why did you call on my home phone instead of the hospital phone?"

She looked at the object in her hand. "I… I don't know. Instinct, I guess."

Vilandra had brought about the destruction of an entire planet. Vilandra had betrayed her own family, gotten them all killed. Vilandra had become someone completely incomprehensible, someone that Isabel had seen reflected in the dupe Lonnie's eyes.

But was she all that different? She'd lied to her brother, nearly gotten her boyfriend killed… She had tried so hard to avoid becoming that person, and yet, in the end…

She blinked a few times, felt the tears still burning in her eyes.

"What are you doing?" Alex asked.

"Um… looking at college applications. Essays and personal statements and… and that sort of thing."

"Oh… Was there… something you wanted? I mean… a reason why you called?"

"Oh… it's… nothing, really. Just… wanted to see how you were doing," Isabel said quietly. She couldn't say the real reason that she had called, couldn't explain that it was because she was having an emotion meltdown in her room over something as ridiculously unimportant as a college application essay. She didn't really even want to go to the University of Chicago, anyway.

"I'm fine," Alex said.

"Okay. Good. Well… you probably need sleep and rest and… and all that. So I'll just… I'll let you go now." She drew a shaky breath. "I'm glad you're doing better."

"Thanks."

Another long, almost unbearable pause. Everything she wanted to stay stuck in her throat. She wished she could push out the three words that mattered, a simple _I love you_. She doubted it would change anything, but it was still something that needed to be said.

But what if he didn't love her anymore?

She looked down at the college application once more.

Who was she?

"Okay. So I'll talk to you later. Bye, Isabel."

"Bye, Alex."

She hung up the phone and dropped it onto the floor next to her. Crumpling up the print out of the University of Chicago application, she threw it into the trash.

She didn't want to answer that question.

* * *

Next Chapter: The Beginnings of War

Due: Sun 9/12


	4. The Beginnings of War

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Four: The Beginnings of War

"So this is Roswell? It seems… nice."

The man with the bright green eyes turned towards his wife and said in an exasperated tone, "Lils, do you have to be like that?"

"Like what?" the woman said irritably, blowing out a breath and yanking her long black hair into a ponytail. "Tired? Worn out? Sick of all this constant moving? And now we're in this tiny desert town in the middle of nowhere…" She shook her head. "Yes, Patrick, I think I have to be _exactly_ like this."

They were standing side-by-side on the sloping lawn of their new house. Behind them, several men were unloading boxes from the large moving truck and hauling them up the cement walkway to the door. The sun was hot, its unrelenting rays beating down on all of them. Already, sweat was gathering along Patrick's forehead and clinging to his shirt.

Lillian sniffed. "I don't like it here," she said. She was holding a large cup of lemonade in her hand, and moved the straw around a few times before taking a sip.

"You get used to it, ma'am," one of the movers said, hoisting a box into his arms and giving her a disarming grin. "We moved out here when I was eight and I hated it. But I got used to it. Now it's home, sweet home."

Lillian made a face. "God, I hope we are not here long enough for me to feel that way."

"Don't mind her," Patrick said apologetically to the mover. "My wife is a city girl, and the desert makes her cranky." To his wife, he said, "Come on, Lils. Be nice."

She shot him an exasperated look, then sighed heavily. "I just want to go home," she muttered.

She hurried up the path towards the door, and followed a few of the movers into the house. Even from outside, Patrick could hear her giving orders in her high-pitched voice, directing where boxes should be placed.

He ran a hand through his hair, then let his gaze wander out over the rest of the neighborhood. It was quiet, which was nice. But perhaps a little too quiet. He could see why Lilian would dislike it so much. It was too small even for him, and he was used to this sort of thing.

A woman was walking down the street. She paused in front of Patrick's new house and looked up at it questioningly, then gave Patrick a smile. She had a friendly look in her eyes, but there was something else about her, a sot of sadness that draped over her, tainting everything.

"We're just moving in," Patrick said, feeling the need to say something.

"Welcome to Roswell," the woman answered. "I'm Amy, by the way. Amy DeLuca." She turned and pointed towards one of the houses across the street. "I live over there."

Patrick eyed the house she pointed out. The house itself was rather nondescript, a lot like every other house on the street. The yard had the look of something that had once been well-tended, but had fallen into disarray in the past few weeks. Weeds poked their heads through the dirt, and the grass was brown in places, dried out by too much sun and not enough water.

"It's nice to meet you, Amy," Patrick said, moving towards Amy and extending his hand. "I'm Patrick, and my wife Lillian is in the house."

"No… no, not over there. Yes, to the right. No, that's left. I said move it to the right!" The sound of Lillian's voice came drifting to them through the open window of the house, and Patrick gave Amy a slightly abashed grin.

"She's very exacting," he said.

Amy shrugged. "A lot of women are," she answered. "So… where are you two from?"

Patrick folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the side of the moving truck. "Chicago. We had to move because of my work, although Lillian isn't that happy about it."

"Roswell does take some getting used to," Amy agreed. "But she'll learn to love it in time, I promise. There are a lot of wonderful things about the town…" She trailed off, her eyes clouding over, obviously thinking about something else. Whatever it was, it was not a happy thought, and it brought a slight frown to her face.

Patrick looked back at the house again, watching as the movers carried the last of the boxes inside.

"Well, I should get going," Amy said. "It was nice meeting you, Patrick."

"You, too, Amy," Patrick replied. "Hopefully I will see you around."

"I'm sure you will," Amy promised, then she walked past Patrick and crossed the street, moving quickly towards her own house.

Patrick gave her one last look, then walked up the path and into his own house.

* * *

The pamphlets for the various boarding schools were spread across her bed, but Liz wasn't looking at them. She was sitting cross-legged, clutching a pillow to her chest, and staring blankly at the wall, trying hard not to think of Max.

Alex was alive, she reminded herself, and wasn't she supposed to be happy about that? It was what she had wanted, the only thing she had focused on for the past month, and now… Now it didn't feel like enough. But every time she thought of the four hybrids, it wasn't actually _them_ that she missed.

She missed the feeling of belonging. She missed thinking that she was doing something with her life, something amazing and important. She was saving people.

And… well, okay, so she did miss Max. But she didn't miss _this_ Max. She missed the Max he had been before, the quiet, shy, sweet, charming boy who…

Who didn't have the weight of two worlds on his shoulders.

Her mind wandered from Max to Courtney, and, as usual, the familiar wave of fury ran through her. She wished they could have killed the blonde rebel skin, wished they could have made her pay for all she had done. It hadn't been possible to do so, of course, and she couldn't regret Alex being alive and safe now, but still…

She still couldn't wrap her head around everything Courtney had done. It didn't make sense, not really. Courtney had helped them so many times. With the blue crystal parasites, with the Harvest, with getting Tess, Kyle, the Sheriff, and Michael back from the pocket realm, with rescuing Isabel from the skins. Why would she have done all of that if she was going to betray them in the end? Was it just some play to get close to them, to gain their trust?

And then there was Ava. She tried not to think about the dupe Queen too often. She didn't like thinking about the person Ava had become and what exactly it was that had forced her into that position. She didn't understand, _couldn't_ understand, how someone with Max's DNA could have turned into that Zan. And she also couldn't help but wonder, occasionally, what she would have done if she had been in Ava's position. Would she have made the same choices?

Did Tess think about that ever?

She rubbed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. Did she really want to leave? Did she really want to start over without the alien mess in her life? That aspect of attending a boarding school was quite appealing, and it wasn't like she was really needed here any more.

But Michael had come back from the future to tell her that she _couldn't_ leave. That had been last year, back when it still felt like maybe, just maybe, she and Max had a future together. Those feelings were gone now, and maybe Michael's warning didn't apply. Maybe they had already saved the future, and it wouldn't matter if she left.

Or, maybe, Khivar would track her down, kill her, and then destroy the world.

She remembered the night she had told Max about Future Michael's warnings. Isabel had been gone, kidnapped by Rath and Nicolas, and they were scrambling to come up with a plan to save her. And she'd told Max that Khivar would kill her in the future and the look on his face right at that moment…

She had known he would do anything in the world to keep her safe.

But things had changed. Not so long ago, she had told Max that they were still a group, even if they didn't all get along. And yet, even as she told him that, even as she uttered the words and prayed that he would believe her, she had not been able to keep back her own doubts, her own worries that her statement was empty and false. She could lie to him, but could she lie to herself?

She wished she could tell exactly what Max was thinking. She wished she could see right into his mind. Because trying to talk to him wasn't working.

On the other side of town, Max frowned and pulled his attention up from the book he was reading. Something strange was happening, though he didn't know what it was. But he could feel Liz, like she was sitting right next to him.

He looked around his room. It was empty, just as he had known it would be. But Liz's presence still lingered for a moment, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her brown hair and doe eyes. It was like she was standing right there, just beyond his range of vision.

But he blinked, and the feeling and mirage were gone, leaving him alone again.

He set his book down and walked out of his room. Isabel was standing in the hallway, holding a toothbrush in her hand. She forced a smile when she saw him, though the look was strained and the space between them was awkward and uncomfortable. Max shifted his weight from foot to foot and wished he could think of the right thing to say.

"I was just going to bed," Isabel said.

Max nodded. "I think I saw Liz."

It wasn't exactly how he had meant to say it, and it didn't make a whole lot of sense. The words sort of tumbled out, without thought or planning.

Isabel raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Um… okay." Her expression had hardened immediately at the mention of Liz, but there was also a look of bewilderment and concern in her eyes, like she couldn't quite figure out what they were discussing.

He let out a breath. "Like… had a vision of her. Like she was standing in my room. And I could feel her right there, but when I turned to look, it was just… she was gone."

Isabel played with the end of her toothbrush, absently running her fingers over the bristles, and asked, "Is she in danger?"

"No. It wasn't that sort of vision. There wasn't anything connected with it. She was just… there." Max struggled for the right words to explain how it had felt, but came up with nothing. How could he describe something he didn't really understand?

"Are you sure you're not just day-dreaming about her?" Isabel asked.

"I'm sure," Max said firmly. "I can't explain it, Izzy, but it… something happened. It was… it was not a normal… I wasn't day-dreaming."

She gave him a doubtful look. "I don't know, Max. I mean, it sounds like she was dream-walking you or something, but Liz isn't an alien and you weren't asleep, so… it's not really possible."

Max groaned. "Yeah. I know."

And he turned and walked back into his room, leaving a surprised and slightly worried Isabel standing in the hallway.

* * *

"Petro?"

Patrick smiled grimly at the woman standing in front of him. She was the same as he had remembered, her unruly red hair falling over glittering eyes, her chin lifted slightly, confidence shining in her very posture.

"Actually," he said, "I go by Patrick for the moment. It's more… American… I believe." He stepped forward, closing the space in between them. "And how are you, Kristalia?"

The Royalist grinned. "Better now that you are here. The others haven't arrived yet, I'm still waiting for the army to assemble. I take it you got Jared's message?"

Patrick nodded. "Yes." He took a slow breath, felt something twist in his stomach. "Kristi… I'm sorry. About what happened to Jared." He didn't know the exact details, of course, but he knew that the Royalist had sent out his message to the army only moments before dying. Someone had killed him.

Kristalia accepted his sympathy with a nod of her head. "I am, too," she agreed, her voice shaking just slightly with the pain of that particular loss. "But this is a war, and we all knew the dangers. Jared died for what he believed in. He would have wanted that." She looked up at the stars for a moment, contemplating them, then asked, "Is Lilsar here as well?"

"She goes by Lillian," Patrick answered. "And yes, she is here. When I left, she was complaining about the town." He snorted, looking around briefly, before adding, "She still has much higher standards than I do, but I can't deny she is at least partially right. Of all the places to send the Royal Four… why _here_? Earth is bad enough, but at least send them to an actual _city_."

"You've been on Earth too long," Kristalia commented dryly. "You've started to forget. Or do I need to remind you how much smaller of a planet Antar is?"

"In size and population, yes. In technological advancement? Hardly. And most of our people lived in bigger cities except the farmers. Rowell is _nothing_ compared to home."

Kristalia laughed. "I think we're all in agreement on that one. But the Royal Four will not be what you remember, Patrick. They are different people here, even if they have the same… essences."

Patrick raised his eyebrows, but did not press for more information. Instead, he said, "I have been contacted by a few others. I think we will be joined by several of our… colleagues… in the next few days. The entire army should be assembled within a couple weeks."

"As long as Khivar does not attack before then," Kristalia murmured.

"Our intel suggests that he is still regrouping," Patrick said. "Nicolas' death has hit him hard, as has the loss of most of his soldiers here on Earth. He will need to send more before he can mount any real attack."

"While I certainly have no plans to grieve over the loss of our dear _Nicolas_," Kristalia said with a slight sneer on the skin's name, "I am a bit worried. Khivar is smart, but he can be entirely unpredictable when his family is involved. With Nicolas, he too often let his emotions drive him. His retaliation for the death of his brother will be beyond anything the hybrid Royal Four have dealt with so far, and we have no way of guessing when or what exactly will happen."

Patrick shrugged. "Then we had better be ready for anything."

Kristalia pushed her red hair out of her eyes and nodded. "Indeed. I will speak with Zan – he goes by the name of Max Evans, by the way – and tell him that you are here. You and Lilsar… sorry, _Lillian_… should meet the Royal Four tomorrow. They will want to know that the first of the army has arrived."

"Alright," Patrick answered. "I will tell Lillian. Until tomorrow then, Kristi."

The redhead nodded. "Tomorrow."

* * *

Next Chapter: Four Clueless Teenagers

Due: Thurs 9/16


	5. Four Clueless Teenagers

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Five: Four Clueless Teenagers

"Your Majesty."

Max nearly jumped out of his skin at the soft voice. The woman had so abruptly appeared at his side that he had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn't imagining her. And once he was positive that she was there, he inwardly cursed himself for being taken by surprise.

What if she had been the enemy?

"What is it?" he asked the redheaded Royalist, letting his gaze wander around the park to make sure they wouldn't be seen.

"The first of the army has arrived. Two of the earlier scouts. I believe they go by the names Patrick and Lillian," Kristalia said gravely. "They wish to meet with you. All four of you."

Max pursed his lips. "They are on our side?"

"Yes," Kristalia said emphatically. "They can be trusted, your Majesty."

"Tess won't be back for several weeks," Max pointed out. And he was reluctant to meet with anyone unless all four of them together. But, he supposed, they couldn't put off the inevitable forever. "When do they want to meet?"

"Today."

* * *

"Are you sure we shouldn't be including everyone else?"

Max gave Isabel an incredulous look. She had repeated this question several times over the last twenty minutes, and it was starting to frustrate him. Even more than that, Michael seemed as though he actually agreed with Isabel, and Max didn't want to have to argue with both of them.

"There's no reason to," he said.

They were gathered at Michael's apartment, waiting. It was nearly eight in the evening, and the two Royalists were supposed to arrive at any moment. Max hadn't bothered to call Tess, figuring he would wait to talk to her after he had met these two aliens and actually had something to report. He also hadn't called Liz for rather obvious reason – they weren't speaking to each other – or Maria or Alex.

And that seemed to be worrying Isabel.

"Maria's going to be mad that she wasn't here," Michael said from his seat on the sofa.

"Are you afraid of her?" Max shot back.

Michael glowered at him, but Max just ignored the look and went back to staring at the door. There was really no reason to call Alex, either, since the human boy wasn't going to be leaving his house any time soon. And, after everything that had happened, Max didn't feel right including him too closely in anything potentially dangerous. He'd already come far too close to dying.

That left Maria, and Max didn't really care one way or the other about her… except that she would no doubt want to bring Liz with her.

"They have a right to know," Isabel said softly.

"Yes," Max agreed. He couldn't very well argue that point. But there was a difference between keeping someone informed of what was happening and actually inviting them to all the meetings. "And we will tell them tomorrow."

The argument was forestalled by the knock at the door, and Max rose uneasily to his feet. Michael did the same, then crossed the room quickly and stood with his hand on the doorknob. Looking back at Max, he raised one eyebrow questioningly.

"You ready?" Isabel asked nervously.

Max gave a short, dark laugh. "Not really."

"Yeah," Michael agreed. "Me, neither." And then he pulled open the door.

Kristalia was the first to enter. She walked in briskly, inclining her head to Max. "Good evening, your Majesty."

Max didn't answer. He was instead gazing at the two others. They both looked to be in their late twenties or earlier thirties. Patrick was tall and tanned and had an easy smile that lit his features as he gazed in turn at each of the three hybrids in the room. Lillian was quieter, and her stare was shrewd and calculating. Her gaze lingered on Isabel for a fraction of a second longer than necessary before she turned towards Max.

"You must be Patrick and Lillian," Max said, feeling a bit foolish to be starting off the conversation that way.

"We are, your Majesty," Patrick said, bowing his head.

"They are scouts also, your Majesty, just as Jared and I were," Kristalia said, shutting the door to the apartment firmly behind her.

Max nodded. He remembered vaguely once Jared and Kristalia had first arrived that they had mentioned something about Royalist scouts being sent to Earth to find the Royal Four. Each set of scouts had been assigned a specific part of the world to do their searching. Jared had been the first to find them, and now that the army was coming, it seemed the other scouts would be coming as well.

"We were sent to Canada," Patrick added. "It's an interesting country."

"So I guess the rest of the army will be showing up soon, too?" Michael said, looking steadily at Lillian.

She met his gaze. "Yes, General," she answered. "I would imagine the other scouts will arrive shortly, and then the army… You will not have long to wait." She looked around the room once more, then commented, "The Queen is not here."

It was not a question, but Max felt the need to answer it anyway. "She's out of town for a few more weeks. She'll be back soon."

The smile on Patrick's face fell a bit at that, and he asked warily, "Is she safe?"

Michael snorted and reached up with one hand to absently scratch his eyebrow. Isabel wrapped her arms around herself and chewed her bottom lip, clearly unsure how to answer that question.

"She is for now," Max said, and prayed that it was actually true.

Patrick considered Max for a long moment, then said, "If we believe she is in any danger, one of us could go to wherever she is, your Majesty. Just as an added safeguard."

"Oh, yeah, Tess will _really_ go for that," Isabel drawled.

Max couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips at Isabel's words. He could clearly envision Tess' reaction to being told that they were sending a Royalist to keep an eye on her. Of course, it wasn't actually a _bad_ idea… assuming they could trust the other aliens. And though Kristalia had done nothing to cause him to doubt her loyalty, after everything that happened with Courtney, he just wasn't sure.

"Maybe we should all sit down," Max said, gesturing to the sofa.

"Kristi informed us that there are several humans who know of your identity," Patrick said as he settled into a seat across from Michael and Max. "Will they be joining us as well?"

"Not this time," Max answered sharply, interjecting his reply before either Michael or Isabel could respond.

Isabel remained standing, pacing back and forth across the floor with pent-up nervous energy. Kristalia, too, stayed standing, leaning against the wall and watching as everyone else took seats.

There was a momentary silence as Max studied the two aliens. When he had first met Jared and Kristalia, he had instinctively trusted Jared more. There had been something about Kristalia that had been off-putting, and though he couldn't quite place it, Michael had admitted to feeling the same thing.

But, of course, it hadn't really mattered in the end. Jared was dead and Kristalia was the one who remained alive and determined to protect them.

But, as he stared at Patrick and Lillian, he couldn't deny that he felt the same way about those particular dynamics. Patrick put him more at ease, Lillian put him more on edge.

"So," Michael said bluntly, "you wanted to meet with us."

Patrick and Lillian exchanged a quick glance, then Lillian said, "Yes. Your Majesty," and here she looked solely at Max, "news has, of course, reached Antar. News about Nicolas' death. You have killed the skin king's brother, and our intel tells us that Khivar is planning to launch a full-blown attack against the four of you."

Max folded his hands in his lap and tried hard not to let his panic show. "When?" he asked sharply.

"We don't know," Patrick answered. "But he knows who and where you are, your Majesty. When he launches the attack, he won't have any trouble finding you." Again, there was a quick look passed in between Patrick and Lillian. But before Patrick could say anything else, Kristalia spoke up.

"It might be best if you left Roswell, your Majesty."

"What?" Isabel breathed, looking horrified. "No. No, we can't. Roswell is our home." But even as she said the words, her voice shook slightly and the insecurity showed plainly in her eyes.

"One of Khivar's many tactics for decreasing support for your claim to the throne, your Majesty, is to spread the rumor that you are… forgive me… four clueless teenagers," Lillian said. "And… forgive me again for suggesting this, but… is at least some of what he says true?"

"You think we're clueless?" Michael asked angrily, leaning forward.

"Of course not, General," Lillian said quickly, lifting her hands in a sign of surrender. "I mean only to suggest that Khivar is stronger than you are and has more experience fighting a war. You have memories of Antar and some understanding of what is at stake, but Khivar _is_ powerful. And so are his skins. It would be foolish to confront him right now."

"And what good will it do us to run?" Max asked.

"It may buy you some time," Kristalia answered.

Max considered this for a few minutes. Isabel had stopped pacing and was now standing directly behind him, leaning on the sofa. Michael was tense, his expression stony. It was clear that neither liked the idea of leaving Roswell, and Max didn't really like it, either.

He stood up and stepped away from the three Royalists. "How much?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I much time, Kristalia?" Max repeated. "How much time will we gain by running? Is there anywhere in the world we can go where Khivar won't find us?"

"No," Lillian said bluntly. "Eventually you will have to face his army, that much is inevitable. Khivar will not stop until he has destroyed you, or you have destroyed him."

"Then why run?"

"Because if you face him now, you will lose," Lillian said coolly, her voice detached and clinical as though she was merely discussing something from a textbook. "And even if you should manage to win, the town of Roswell will certainly suffer for it. There will be many casualties. I would rather you have time to train, to relearn about your past, and then face him. In the desert or somewhere far enough away from other cities that you will not be easily distracted by the threat of loss of human life."

Max folded his arms over his chest and looked over at the window. The warm summer sun was sinking over the horizon, leaving streaks of light behind in the cloudless sky. It was the end of another stunningly beautiful day, and yet Max couldn't help but thinking that soon they might be fighting a battle underneath that very same sun. It seemed surreal, and he could barely wrap his head around the idea. Despite everything that they had lived through – and, he reminded himself bitterly, not all of them had _lived_ through it – the fact that he was a king fighting a civil war was still so… bizarre.

Though he had no intention of admitting this to the Royalists, he knew that, compared to Khivar, they really were clueless teenagers.

"If we leave, what is to stop Khivar from coming to Roswell and killing everyone left behind?" Isabel asked warily.

Nobody answered, but Max got the distinct impression that neither Lillian nor Kristalia cared much about that. Patrick looked a bit more sympathetic, but even his expression was guarded and solemn.

"Is your job only to worry about us, then?" Isabel asked, her words almost vicious in their anger. Her face was flushed red and her eyes were suspiciously bright, a sign that she was close to tears. Thoughts of Jim and Alex rested heavily on all their minds, and the idea of leaving their friends and family unprotected was unbearable.

Kristalia looked away and said nothing. Max glanced at her, and had a suspicion that her silence was due to the fact that she had witnessed just how much they had all fallen apart after Jim's death. No doubt she did not want to press her luck by dismissing that so lightly.

But Lillian said firmly, "Our job is to win this war, your Majesty. And to do that, you four still need to be alive at the end of it."

"If we refuse to leave, what then?" Michael questioned.

"The Royalist army will continue to assemble here, and we will face Khivar when he comes," Patrick said.

"But I would still advise against it," Lillian added.

"For now, we're staying," Max said emphatically. They could address the issue later, perhaps after talking to Tess about it. But for right now, he didn't like the idea of leaving. He didn't like the idea of doing anything but continuing with their lives.

But the war was coming, whether he liked it or not, and they would all have to face Khivar in the end.

Isabel nodded quickly, agreeing with her brother. "We can't leave. We're staying here."

Lillian sighed. "Then you may die here, too."

* * *

The cell phone rang only once before Tess grabbed it from the table by her bed and flipped it open. She had seen the caller ID, and worry was now coursing through her veins.

"Max?"

"Hey, Tess," came Max's voice from the other end of the phone line. "How's your vacation?"

Tess ran a hand through her hair and looked around the room. Kyle was sitting on the bed opposite her, but on hearing her say Max's name, he rose to his feet and started to walk from the room. She watched him go for a moment, then sighed.

"It's fine, Max. Is everything alright?"

"We met a couple of Royalists. Scouts, like Jared and Kristalia. They say the rest of the army is coming."

"Any skins?" Tess asked, her mind still partially preoccupied by Kyle's abrupt departure. She could hardly blame him for not being interested in any talk about aliens, and, in fact, a part of her was relieved by his disinterest. He was safer that way.

She wasn't going to let another family member get killed.

"No. Nothing yet. But… the new Royalists did say that Khivar will launch an all out attack on us soon. He's really upset about Nicolas' death, apparently."

"Yeah… I get that," Tess murmured softly. As someone who had wanted… who _still_ wanted… to rip Courtney limb from limb, she understood perfectly what things people would be willing to do when a loved one was killed. She paused, then asked, "Any idea when?"

"No."

"Okay. Well… thanks for the head's up. It doesn't really seem like I need to come back yet, though. I mean… we're not in any imminent danger."

There was a long silence from Max, and Tess was fairly certainly he was wrestling with himself, trying to figure out how to answer that statement. He had to know that, if they were actually in serious danger, she would drop everything and return to Roswell in a heartbeat. But he clearly was not thrilled that she was still gone.

"Yeah. Okay, fine," he said at last. "We'll see you when you get back."

"Let me know if anything new happens," she requested.

"I will," he assured her heavily. "Bye, Tess."

"Bye, Max."

After she disconnected the fall, she stared at her phone for a long time. She should be there, helping them all deal with this new development. She should be there, facing the dangers with them.

But she wasn't. Because she had a family here, too.

She tossed the phone onto her bed and walked from the room.

* * *

Next Chapter: How You Remind Me

Due: Mon 9/20


	6. How You Remind Me

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: This titles of this chapter and the chapter after it (as well as the lyrics at the beginning of each chapter) are taken from the song _How You Remind Me_ by Nickleback.

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Six: How You Remind Me

_Never made it as a wise man,  
I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealing,  
Tired of living like a blind man,  
I'm sick of sight without a sense of feeling_

Running into Max on the sidewalk on the way back from Maria's house was more than just a little awkward. It really shouldn't have been, Liz reasoned, because all they had to do was exchange nods and keep walking, and yet for some strange reason both of them had stopped and neither had anything to say.

"Where are you headed?" Max asked finally, the first to break the tense silence.

"Home," Liz answered in a clipped tone. "I was at Maria's."

"Oh. Okay. How is Maria?" Max continued, obviously groping for something to keep the conversation going.

Liz ran a hand through her hair until her fingers got caught on a few knots. She yanked at them for a moment, but only succeeded in causing her head some pain.

"She's fine. Michael came by and he wanted to talk to her so I left." Liz grimaced a bit, remembering the way Michael had stormed through the door, anger evident in his eyes. Maria had gone to him instantly, practically forgetting that Liz was in the room. And Liz had taken that as her cue to leave.

She wasn't exactly jealous, at least not this time. After all, she had seen the look in Michael's eyes and knew he was upset about something, and she was not about to deny him the opportunity to find some comfort in Maria. But it was hard, because her best friend was so clearly happily in love and she…

She looked at Max again.

"How are you guys? You and… and Isabel?" Liz asked finally.

"We're good," Max said quickly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His eyes darted around nervously, and Liz could tell he was lying. They weren't good, and maybe they wouldn't be for a while. But what could she really do to help? They would not accept anything from her. Not now, anyway.

But Max still continued to stand there, staring at her. He didn't keep walking, and she didn't either, and yet neither really had anything to say.

She looked away again, her gaze moving towards the direction she had been walking, towards her home. She really should go. And yet…

"Okay. Um… anything new going on?" she asked.

Max opened his mouth immediately, and then hesitated. He rubbed absently at the back of his neck with one hand, a gesture that made him appear uneasy. There was something in his eyes, some sign of inner struggle, as though he wasn't sure how to answer that question.

It set her instantly on edge. _Had_ something happened?

"No," he said finally. "Nothing new. Just… trying to keep our heads down. Not draw attention to ourselves."

"Okay." There was really nothing left to say, and at some other time Liz might have pressed for more details, might had demanded that Max tell her the truth because right now it was clear that he was lying, but at the moment she didn't really want to put in the effort. What was the point?

Max kicked at the ground, scuffing it with the toe of his shoe. So far, the conversation had been cool and unemotional, and the strained, awkward undertones had not driven them completely insane. But it was time to end it.

"I should go," Liz said.

Max nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, me too."

Liz turned and started to walk away, but she had only taken a few steps when Max called out her name.

"Liz."

She turned and faced him, eyebrows raised. "Yeah?"

He had stuffed his hands in his pockets, and he looked so unsure, it reminded her abruptly of the first time he had asked her out on a date. She wanted to smile at the memory, but it was too bittersweet. They had been different people then. Too much had changed in the past two years.

Max didn't say anything, and Liz felt her patience slowly waning. "Max, what is it?" she asked, a little sharper than she had really intended.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "It's nothing. Never mind."

She expelled a breath and shrugged. "Okay." If he didn't want to tell her what was on his mind, she wasn't going to play twenty questions with him.

"I just thought you might have been in my room last night," Max muttered as he turned to go.

"I… what?" Liz stammered indignantly. Max was already walking away from her, but she quickly closed the gap in between them and caught his arm, pulling him around. "You can't just accuse me of something like that and then walk away!"

"I didn't… I'm not accusing you of anything," Max said, flustered. His face had flushed a dull pink, but he met Liz's gaze without flinching. "Just… just forget it, okay? It's not important."

"Well, good. Because I wouldn't go breaking into your room," Liz said, struggling to get her temper back under control. It had flared so unexpectedly, and some part of her felt a little upset about how easy it was for her to get angry now.

Maybe her father was right. Maybe she really did need to get away from all of this.

"I know you wouldn't break into my room," Max agreed. He pulled his arm out of her grip and turned to leave once more.

But he had only taken a few steps when Liz furrowed her brow in confusion and asked, "If you know I wouldn't break into your room, then why did you think I did it?"

"I didn't," Max said, sparing her only the briefest of glances. The expression on his face made it clear that he had no desire to finish this conversation, but he stopped walking. She was gazing at him in bewilderment and a little bit of hurt, and he heaved a sigh. "I thought you might have… I just, I was sitting there and then I felt you and I almost saw you like… like you had been… I don't know…"

"You _felt_ me?" Liz asked incredulously. "What does that _mean_?"

"I don't… I don't know. It was like… well, it wasn't _like_ dream-walking, but it was close and I just…"

"You thought I was dream-walking you?" Liz asked cautiously, eyes narrowed. "Max… I'm human."

"I _know_ that!" Max snapped. He looked angry and confused, and he folded his arms over his chest in a defensive manner. "Look, it doesn't matter, okay. It was nothing, just forget about it."

Liz continued to stare at him, her mouth hanging open at the absurdity of the entire conversation. There was no way Max had really said what he'd just said… except that he had. She'd _heard_ it.

But before she could think of an appropriate response, Max turned and walked away, and this time, she did not call him back. She continued to watch him until he turned the corner and disappeared from her sight, then she sighed softly and shook her head.

What had just happened?

* * *

"Uh… Michael? You're starting to scare me a little," Maria said as she braced herself against the dashboard of the car and watched as the desert landscape rushed by. "Couldn't you drive a little bit slower?"

It wasn't actually that she didn't feel safe. Michael was a good driver – at least good enough not to take completely unnecessary risks – and he wasn't driving too quickly. But the furious expression on his face did frighten her, if only because it meant that he was hurting and scared and angry and at the moment there didn't appear to be anything she could do about it.

Michael gave her a brief look and slowed down just a little bit. Enough for Maria to look back at the window and realize exactly where they were. Her eyes moved automatically to the rock formation that she knew was the entrance to the pod chamber.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Michael stopped the car and stared silently through the windshield at the landscape in front of him. "Some Royalists are here," he said bluntly. "The first of the army. The rest of them should be here soon."

"Okay. Well… we knew that would happen," Maria pointed out reasonably.

The logic of her answer only seemed to infuriate Michael, who shoved open his door and climbed out of the car. He stood, blinking in the sunlight, for a moment, then slammed the door shut and stormed towards the pod chamber.

Maria scrambled out of the car and followed him, her worry giving way to anger. If he didn't want to talk to her, that was fine, but he was the one who had dragged her out of a conversation with Liz and away from her house and he had better explain why.

"Michael! Hey, wait. Don't you dare walk away from me, Space Boy!"

She caught up with him just as the rock wall melted away to allow them entry to the pod chamber, and hurried inside. Michael walked in front of her, standing in the middle of the room, and then suddenly threw out one hand and caused the entire side of the wall to explode, raining bits of rock onto the floor.

Maria bit back the urge to scream and clamped her mouth shut instead. She moved along the side of the wall towards the four pods, knowing that the Granolith chamber was beyond them. She wondered for a moment if perhaps she should remind Michael of that, so that he didn't accidentally destroy it.

But then she looked back at the far wall and noted that, even though he was still blowing up rocks, Michael was being careful to keep control over what he was doing. He wasn't going to risk destroying the wrong thing – or hurting either of them.

He flung out his hand once more, twisting his wrist slightly, and the pieces of rock that had broken loose from the wall suddenly froze in midair.

"The Royalist Army is gathering and they want us to leave Roswell. They don't think we're ready. They think Khivar will kill us and would rather that we hide while that… that _madman_ tries to destroy Earth!" Michael spat.

"You don't know he's going to do that," Maria argued.

Michael whirled around to face her with a disbelieving look in his eyes. "You really think he'd let everyone in Roswell live? This is a war, and he's going to destroy the town just… just because he _can_."

Michael started pacing, and Maria looked past him towards the rocks that were still suspended in midair like some kind of strange hanging mobile. A brief smile crossed her features as she remembered how Michael had discovered he had that gift when he had accidentally frozen a bunch of erasers while they were kissing in the Eraser Room.

Still, it had been a nerve-wracking experience since he'd had no idea how to unfreeze them.

"Hey, did you ever figure out how to undo that," she asked curiously, gesturing towards the rock fragments. "Or do we still just wait for them to fall on their own?"

Michael shook his head. "Never really got a chance to practice it much," he admitted reluctantly. "Sometimes I still worry that when I try to blow something up, I'm going to end up freezing it instead."

"Well… I guess that would be inconvenient. But if you just work on it some more, you'll get control of it. Right? I mean, that is what happened with your, uh… blowing up things… gift," Maria suggested, stumbling over what exactly to call Michael's powers.

Michael didn't answer. He was staring at the wall, his face blank, unemotional. But Maria moved closer to him, and she could see the tiny cracks appearing in his façade.

Without warning, Michael spun around and slammed his fist into the nearest wall. Maria jumped back, surprised at the movement and at the ferocity in his expression. Michael didn't seem to notice, though, and hit the wall again.

"The reporters are starting to ask questions about Whitman," Michael snarled, his words punctuated by yet another slam of his hand into the wall.

"Michael! Michael, stop it, you're going to hurt yourself," Maria cried, darting forward and catching his hand in hers. His knuckles were scraped and bruised, and she wrapped her own fingers carefully around them. The action halted Michael for a moment, and then he tried to pull his hand out of her grip. But she held on and gazed up into his face, worried.

"Max doesn't want to do anything," Michael said, practically growling the words. "He wants to just hide, as thought if we pretend they aren't there, then they'll go away. But the Royalist army is coming. _Khivar_ is coming! And Patrick and Lillian don't think we're ready for the fight."

Maria frowned. "Who are Patrick and Lillian?"

"The Royalists! The Royalists who are _here_. In Roswell. Now." Michael pulled away from her and kicked at a few of the loose rocks on the ground. They bounced harmlessly off the wall. He and Maria both stared at them for a moment, then he lifted his hand once more, and they exploded, shards scattering across the ground.

Maria stepped back warily, her eyes on the ground. The rocks littered around her continue to explode, tiny fragments skidding across the dirt floor in all directions. They never came close too her – she knew Michael wouldn't take the risk of the rocks hurting either of them – but they continued to blast apart with a rapid intensity.

"Max won't do anything!" Michael growled. "He won't do anything _at all_! The reporters, the skins… he just… Wants. To. Ignore. It!" He bit off each word, eyes flashing with a dangerous anger.

"Michael… Michael, come on. Stop this. It's okay. It's going to be okay," Maria said softly.

"My own soldiers think I am going to die," Michael said with a barking laugh. "_How_ is that going to be okay?"

"It will," Maria repeated emphatically. "We'll figure it out, okay? We'll figure it out." She caught Michael's arm again and pulled him toward her, wrapping her own arms around him. He sagged a bit, the fight draining out of him, and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. "We'll figure it out," she said again. "Okay?"

The shards of rock suspended in midair unfroze and fell to the ground, the clang of them hitting the floor echoing through the cave.

"Okay," Michael muttered in agreement. "Okay."

* * *

Alex Whitman slowly lowered himself to his knees on the grass in front of the grave. He hadn't come here yet, even though he'd had a while now to adjust to everything. He almost didn't want to see it, because that would be the final bit of proof that this wasn't all some horrible nightmare. But the gravestone in front of him was really there, and there was no denying the fact that it had happened.

"I'm sorry, Sheriff," he said, his voice hoarse. "God… I am so sorry."

His parents had not been pleased about the fact that he wanted to come here. They thought it was too early for him. They didn't like letting him out of the house, even though he insisted that he was fine. He was healing well enough, and if his body was still sore, it was only because he had been in a coma for so long.

Some part of him also wondered vaguely if they blamed the Sheriff for this. After all, as far as his parents knew, he had been in the Sheriff's car when this had happened, when an accident had put him in the hospital. Did they think the Sheriff had been driving recklessly? Did they think this was his fault?

But how could they? The Sheriff was dead, how could they hold this against him? He'd already paid the ultimate price.

He glanced behind him. His father was standing by the car, leaning against it, waiting for him. The older man had offered to accompany him all the way to the grave, but this was something Alex had to do alone.

"I don't… I don't even know what to say," he mumbled.

He was gripping the bouquet of flowers so tightly in his hands that they were nearly shaking. They were sunflowers, he had picked them out after agonizing over the decision for nearly ten minutes at the florist shop. It was a silly thing to get caught up in, but for some reason it had seemed so important to have the right flowers.

He stared at them, felt the tears burning in his eyes.

"Everything is so… messed up. Courtney… I'm sorry we couldn't… _they_ couldn't get revenge for you. I'm sorry they chose me instead. I'm sorry…" He stammered over the words, unable to say what he really wanted to say. He hadn't been able to attend the funeral with everyone else, hadn't been able to offer comfort to his friends when they really needed it, and now he couldn't even think of the right thing to say, of a way to make his feelings clear.

He slowly leaned forward and placed the sunflowers at the top of the grave, near the headstone.

"I should have said no to Isabel. If I had just said no, if I had refused to help her translate the Destiny Book, then Courtney never would have been able to use me, and you wouldn't be…" He stopped abruptly and looked away, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes. He'd used up a lot of energy on other emotions – grief, pain, anger, despair – but this was the first time the guilt hit him so hard, taking his breath away.

He should have been able to stop this.

If only he had just told Isabel _no_.

But he hadn't. He had no way of knowing at the time what would happen, and he had cared more about Isabel than his own logical worries.

"I'm sorry," he said again. But they were useless words. He could say them as often as he wanted, and it would make no difference. The Sheriff was still dead, Courtney was still free, he'd still spend time in a coma and… and his group of friends was slowly falling apart.

He rose to his feet, a bit awkwardly, his arms extended outwards slightly to help him balance. He took a few steps backwards, away from the grave. But he hesitated before he left, one last thing to say.

"I don't remember much of… well, of anything that involved Courtney. But I remember a little of that night. I remember collapsing to the ground, I remember the excruciating pain, I remember being terrified… and I remember the way you came rushing towards me the minute you saw that I was hurt, ready to fight Courtney, to defend me. I remember that you… you tried to save me. Maybe you did save me, maybe I would be dead if you hadn't interrupted Courtney when you did. Maybe the damage to my brain would have been irreversible."

When the Sheriff had first learned their secret, it had taken him a while to accept it, to really trust the four hybrids were on the right side. But while he was filled with doubt, with fear, with questions, Alex had seem – they had all seen – how much Tess still meant to him, despite everything. And some part of Alex had always assumed that Tess was the reason the Sheriff was doing this, that protecting Tess was what he cared about beyond everything else. And that everyone else he had to protect was just one of the many unfortunate side-effects of having an alien for a daughter.

But maybe he had been wrong. Maybe the Sheriff had truly cared about all of them.

Or maybe he hadn't. Maybe he was still only doing this for Tess.

Either way, that night, the Sheriff had rushed straight into danger without the slightest hesitation, caring only about the fact that Alex was in trouble.

"I should have said this before. I should have said every time you went out of your way to cover for us, to fight for us. And I wish I had been able to tell you this _that_ night, before you died. I don't know if it will mean anything to you now, but…" Alex drew a breath. "Thank you. For everything."

* * *

Next Chapter: Of What I Really Am

Due: Sun 9/26


	7. Of What I Really Am

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Seven: Of What I Really Am

_It's not like you didn't know that  
I said I love you and I swear I still do.  
And it must have been so bad,_  
'_Cause living with me must have damn near killed you.  
And this is how you remind me of what I really am._

For Diane, time had taken on that strange in-between quality, where it somehow seemed to move quickly and drag at the same time. Every day was excruciatingly long, another day of not knowing what to say to her children, not knowing how to relate to them. And yet, it felt as though she had simply blinked, and it was already July.

She stood in the middle of her kitchen, gazing at the empty table. Philip had already left for work, leaving her in a too-quiet house. She remembered with some fondness what it had been like when the children were little, when she wanted to be a stay-at-home Mom, when she enjoyed keeping house for them, and for her husband. But that had changed in the past months, and now it grew harder and harder to find joy in the little daily activities.

How had she allowed this to happen?

She wasn't arrogant enough to assume she had any control over her children's fate, not now that she knew just how complicated their lives were. But the mother in her still rebelled, unable to stand on the sidelines while the people she cared about fought a war that she was not part of. Why couldn't she help?

But even that question did not stay in her mind for long. It was replaced soon enough by another thought, one she had been trying to suppress since Max first confirmed her suspicions a few weeks earlier. As much as she wanted to, she could not forget what had happened.

It was her own fault, really. She was the one who had asked – who had _insisted_ – on hearing the truth. Granted, at the time she had just discovered that her children were part-alien and involved in a war against some old enemy, and it hadn't seemed unreasonable to want to know. But still…

It was also during that conversation that Max had informed them that Jim's death was not an accident. Shouldn't she have known not to ask questions unless she was absolutely certain she wanted the answer?

_"This will take some… adjusting… for us," Diane said quietly. "You have to understand… it's a lot for us to take in. But we're a family and I know we can get through this, we can figure it out. We can adjust. But I think… your father and I think… it would be best if you don't lie to us anymore."_

_"We want to know the whole story," Philip agreed. _

_Diane saw Max and Isabel exchange a brief look. There was something wary in their eyes, as though they still didn't fully trust their parents, and it made Diane angry and upset._

_Philip might have seen it, too, because he added, "I know you think it is dangerous and difficult, but now that we know… well, we _do_ have a lot of questions. And we're not going to stop having those questions just because they might be difficult." Isabel stiffened, and Diane wanted to reach out and hug her, to reassure her that everything was going to be okay, but Philip was still talking, and he softened his voice as he said, "But you have to remember that even though we're asking for an explanation of all this, we don't love you any less. You are still our children."_

_And that, Diane knew, was the truth._

_"What do you want to know?" Max asked._

_Diane knew what to ask. And she did, spitting out the words quickly, almost afraid that if she hesitated, Max and Isabel would refuse to answer. "The dreams I had where you attacked your father and killed some crystal thing…" She swallowed, closing her eyes briefly and remembering the horror of those nightmares, "Were those really dreams?"_

_Max's jaw tensed, and he looked down, unable to meet her gaze. Her heart plummeted, and she didn't need him to say anything. His silence was answer enough._

"_But… why?" she asked faintly, trying not to cry. She was his mother, she had to be strong. She had to accept this. She couldn't let herself fall apart…_

"_The crystal was… dangerous. It was a hive-like organism," Max explained, still not looking at her. "It was… it was going to cause a lot of destruction. The hive Queen was inside Dad, and I had to kill it. It was the only way to… to save him."_

_Diane chewed her lip. Now that she knew they weren't dreams, she could vaguely sort out what had been actual memory of what was just the product of her overactive imagination. She clearly remembered Max using some power to suffocate Philip, and then the crystal appearing, and…_

_And everything was all hazy after that._

"_Why did I think they were dreams?" she asked, doing her best to keep the accusation out of her voice. But she couldn't quite manage it, and the suspicion was there as well, underlying her words even as she tried to keep her voice level and soft._

"_It's one of the things I can do," Isabel answered, voice shaking. "I… can interfere with people's dreams. Make them believe…" she trailed off uncomfortably and shot a quick, pleading look at Max. But it was clear he didn't have any help to offer her._

"_I was afraid," Diane murmured, her gaze moving back and forth between her two children. She felt Philip resting his hand lightly on her arm, and some part of her knew that she should stop now, switch the topic, shy away from this dangerous conversation. But she _couldn't_, because this fear was still there, buried in her chest._

"_We never meant to…" Max started, and then stopped. He struggled for words for a moment, then said, "I never wanted you to be afraid of me. But we didn't have a choice."_

"_You could have told us the truth," Diane answered._

_Neither Max nor Isabel said anything in reply to that, and Diane let out a breath and looked away, unable to come up with any idea of what to say next._

Even now, weeks later, she didn't think they understood. They had done what they believed was best, she did know that. But she had been afraid of Max. She had been terrified of him, and it had haunted her. Her dreams had been filled with images of him turning on them, hurting them. Sometimes, in the weeks following that night, she would look at him, and it would take her a moment to remember that he was still her son, and not some strange apparition from her nightmares.

There might not have been any ill-intent in their actions – in fact, she was sure of that – but it did not change the outcome. It did not make it any easier for her to bear. What they had done… they had made her afraid of her own son.

And she couldn't get past that. She couldn't fathom the fact that they would trust her so little that they actually thought manipulating her dreams like this was a better solution than simply telling her the truth.

When did they stop believing that she would love them unconditionally?

Was it something she had done? Something she had said?

Her reverie was broken by the sound of footsteps, and then Max stumbled into the kitchen, his hair sticking up at odd angles, his eyelids still heavy with sleep. He stopped when he saw her, mouth dropping open for a minute, as though he didn't expect to find her in the house.

Which, she reasoned, was fair enough. For the most part, they hadn't seen each other in the past few weeks. He was avoiding her, and when he was there, she couldn't think of the right words to say. The silences were awkward, and there was always something about him – something moody and distant and unreachable – and she just couldn't get through.

"There's some cereal in the pantry," she said, nodding her head towards the cupboard in question. "I haven't gone grocery shopping yet this week, so it isn't much…"

"I am sure it will be fine," Max interrupted quickly. He crossed the kitchen, skirting around her. Something clenched painfully in her stomach at those actions. Where was the little boy who used to think she was perfect? Where was the child who would smile shyly and ask if she would give him a good morning hug?

All children grow up, she reminded herself. But do they all grow into people their parents suddenly no longer recognize?

"Is your sister awake?" Diane asked, glancing at the clock. It was still early in the morning, too early, really, for her to assume either of her children would be up.

"No," Max said shortly.

She scrutinized him for a moment. He looked exhausted. His skin had an unnaturally gray pallor to it, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

Without really thinking, she asked automatically, "Are you getting enough sleep?"

Max paused, hand extended over a box of cereal. "Yes," he said, regaining his composure quickly and grabbing the cereal from the shelf. "I'm fine."

"You look tired," Diane protested. "You look really tired. Why are you up so early?"

Max shrugged, then sank into a seat at the table and didn't look at her. She frowned, and forced herself to turn away so that she wouldn't have to see the way he avoided her. She walked over to the sink, fiddling with the dishes. There wasn't much to wash, and she reached for the sponge, but then stopped and sighed.

She didn't want to wash the dishes.

She didn't want to act like everything was normal.

Max was staring at her cereal when she turned to face him once more. He hadn't started eating, hadn't even poured the food into the bowl. She looked at the table and realized that he hadn't pulled the milk out of the refrigerator, either.

"You need to sleep," she said.

He looked up at her, head turning sharply, and she almost recoiled. It was still there, under everything, that instinctual fear. Of him. Of her own son.

And he didn't even know what he had done to her that night.

"I don't," he countered bluntly. "I slept enough. I have… things… to do."

"What sort of things?" she asked, leaning against the counter. Max didn't answer, and she knew that he was hiding it, not wanting to share all the details with her. "Max… you don't have to hide whatever it is from us. Not anymore."

She didn't add that he never should have needed to do that, but the thought crossed her mind, and she pushed it away forcefully.

Max pushed the box of cereal back and forth between his hands. "You don't understand," he said tiredly, his voice almost too quiet.

She shook her head. "I want to."

"No, you don't," Max argued.

It was turning into perhaps the longest conversation they had had in a few weeks.

Max blinked a few times, ran a hand through his hair, and looked at her. He opened his mouth several times, but continually snapped it shut, looking unsure about what to say. Finally, he gave a half-hearted shrug and said, "It's too dangerous."

"I'm your mother."

"I know," Max agreed. "But it is still too dangerous."

"Don't I get any say in whether or not I want to hear about it?" Diane snapped a bit sarcastically, one eyebrow raised. "I'm the parent, remember?"

"Yeah," Max shot back, face flushed, "and I'm the alien king, _remember_?" The words reverberated through the air of the abruptly silent kitchen, and then Max added, "I can't… I'm already worrying about too much. I don't want to worry about you and Dad, too."

Diane folded her arms over her chest. "Your father and I worry about you, Max. Can't you see that we only want…"

"Everything to go back to the way it was before?" Max interrupted. "It _can't_, Mom. We can't. Don't you see? It doesn't work like that."

"I don't want it all to go back to the way it was before," Diane protested. It wasn't actually true, of course, but she _did_ know that what she truly wanted was not possible. And there was really no point in dwelling on all the lost possibilities. They were things that could never be.

"What do you want?" Max asked a bit bitterly.

"I want you to remember that I'm your mother," Diane answered honestly. "That you can trust me. That you aren't alone."

Max jumped to his feet, the chair skidding backwards and away from him across the kitchen floor. "I will be," he said angrily, eyes flashing as he glared at her. "When Khivar kills you and Dad because you're in the way, because you're my parents, because you know too much… I'll be alone then."

And he stormed out of the room.

* * *

"I keep thinking about Courtney."

The tension in the room was palpable, those five words echoing in the sudden silence as two sets of eyes focused on Alex in concern. Liz shifted closer to him on the bed, as though her mere physical presence would be enough to ease the pain in his voice. Maria leaned forward, squeezing his hand sympathetically.

But neither really knew what to say.

"What about her?" Liz asked finally, although it was a bit of a ridiculous question.

Alex answered anyway. "How could she… how could she do this to me? To us?" He paused, took a few shaky breaths. "To Jim?" he added in a low murmur.

"She is evil," Maria said flatly.

"It isn't that simple," Alex protested. "Why did she have to… why did she want us to trust her? Why did she keep helping us? Why didn't she…"

"It _is_ that simple, Alex," Maria countered firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "It really is. Courtney was evil. Everything she did was to get us to trust her so that she could steal information from us. So that she could betray us. She was a traitor. That's all she was."

"She couldn't have known, though," Alex whispered, rubbing his eyes wearily. "If her whole purpose was to get the translation of the Destiny Book… she couldn't have known in the beginning that I would end up translating it. And even then… She didn't need our trust, Maria. She just had to be in the right place at the right time. She just had to… to mind-warp me… It just doesn't add up. She wanted more than the Book. She… she helped us for a _reason_."

"Are you _defending_ her?" Maria asked incredulously.

"No. No, of course not," Alex snapped, eyes narrowed at Maria for asking such a question. Maria had enough common decency to look slightly abashed by her question, but there was still a little bit of bewilderment in her eyes.

And Liz had to agree that she didn't understand what Alex was saying. Or why he was saying it. She'd had these thoughts, too, and had been forced to deal with the questions bouncing around in her head. But there was no amount of logic or rationale that could make it easier to deal with Courtney's actions, or the mess she had left behind.

"I just wish I understood her better," Alex said after a beat. "I just wish… I just wish I knew _why_."

"It isn't about the why," Liz answered softly. "We know _why_ Khivar wants Max and the others dead, but it _still_ doesn't really make sense. They aren't a threat to him, they don't want to fight this war, they'd be perfectly fine just being left alone. But he won't… he won't leave them alone. He won't give up. That's why we're fighting. And Courtney was the same."

"Liz is right," Maria agreed. "We know what Courtney wanted. We know why she wanted it."

"But that's the thing," Alex argued. "We _don't_ know what she wanted or why she wanted it. We don't know _anything_ about her." He looked away from them, his gaze moving towards the window of his bedroom. He hadn't been outside much, the one trip to Jim's grave being the longest his parents had let him leave the house.

She had come because, supposedly, she had wanted Michael on the throne. But killing Jim and nearly stealing the Destiny Book didn't help that cause. And everything she had done _for_ them during the past year did not make sense when compared with everything she had done _to_ them during that same time period.

Maria and Liz didn't get it. They didn't have the same kind of fear hovering around them constantly. They didn't flinch every time the door to their room opened, expecting some kind of attack. They didn't feel always on edge, wondering when they would fall back into the coma. They didn't know what it was like to face the simple, inevitable truth every single day, to always have, in the back of their minds, the terrifying realization that Courtney might be gone, but she wasn't dead.

Which meant she could come back.

And Alex needed to know why she had done this. He needed to understand her motives, he needed to understand her. Otherwise, how could he face her if she ever returned?

"My parents want me to go to boarding school," Liz said suddenly, abruptly changing the subject.

Alex's eyes widened in response, and he opened and closed his mouth several times without really being sure of what he wanted to say. Maria, however, had so such problem, and immediately burst into a diatribe.

"That's insane! Why would they want that? Roswell is your home, how could you possibly thing of leaving it? That is the craziest thing in the world. You can't go. I won't let you!"

Liz raised one eyebrow in pointed disbelief. "Let me?" she echoed.

Maria huffed and folded her arms over her chest. "That's right," she snapped. "It's a stupid idea and you don't have my permission to go."

Liz laughed softly. "I didn't realize I needed your permission," she said teasingly. Then she sobered almost immediately and added, "I didn't say _I_ wanted to go. I said they want me to."

Before Maria could continue her rant, however, Alex cut in, asking in a gentle tone, "Do you want to go?"

"They're good schools," Liz hemmed, unwilling to answer the question fully. The truth was, some part of her did want to go to these schools. Some part of her wanted to get away from this – from Max, from the alien mess, from a life spent looking over her shoulder, waiting for the next crisis.

Alex gave her a shrewd look, then nodded. "Better than Roswell High School."

Liz rubbed her eyes with the heel of one hand and added, "It might help. I mean, for college. For getting into college."

"You have good grades here," Maria protested heatedly, "and you'll do fine on the tests."

"Yeah, but my extracurricular activities are pretty much nonexistent," Liz replied. "Colleges look for that sort of thing. I mean, I know I worked with the Whitaker campaign, but beyond that… everything else has been taken up with…"

"The Czechoslovakians?" Alex supplied. He had to agree with her statement, everything in her life was taken over by the aliens and their war.

"You can't really want to leave, though," Maria said, her tone a mixture of denial and disbelief. "Even if they are better schools, even if it gets you away from everything… this is your _home_."

"I'm going to be leaving at the end of next year anyway," Liz argued. "Wherever I go to college, it won't be here. What difference does one year make?"

Alex and Maria exchanged a quick look, and neither answered the question.

* * *

The sound of laughter filled the phone line before Tess' voice said cheerfully, "Hey, Isabel."

Isabel felt a momentary welling of anger and envy at the obvious merriment in Tess' tone. She struggled to hold back the emotion, though, and said, "What are you doing?"

"Kyle and I are watching a movie," Tess answered, "with a couple of new football friends he made."

A voice Isabel didn't recognize called out, "Hey, take it to another room! This is the good part of the movie!"

To which Tess shot back, "There _is_ no good part of this movie." But Isabel heard the sounds of her moving, footsteps on the floor, and then a door opening and closing, and all the background noise faded.

"Sounds like you're having a good time," Isabel said bitterly.

Tess must have picked up on the tone, there was no way she could have missed it. But she responded with a simple, "Yeah, I am." A pause, then, "How are you guys?"

Isabel choked back a dark laugh and shook her head slowly, knowing Tess wouldn't be able to see it. "Oh, we're great," she muttered sarcastically, loud enough for Tess to hear. "We're watching movies all the time, too."

Again, Tess did not respond to the sarcasm in Isabel's voice, ignoring the brewing argument and settling instead for, "Any more Royalists approach you guys?"

"No. Our lives have been Czechoslovakian-free," Isabel snapped, her tone sardonic. It seemed as though there was no way she was going to have a civil conversation with Tess, not if the other girl was watching movies with her newfound friends while her family in Roswell struggled to hold themselves together.

But Tess, strangely, seemed determined to avoid the argument. "I talked to Max after the last one. He said you'd probably get more… visitors… in the next few days."

Isabel pulled up a chair and sank into it, staring around her empty house. Both her parents were gone, and Max had to work at the UFO Center, leaving her alone. It was a pleasant break from the constant anxiety that permeated the house, the stress and tension and awkward silence that filled the room whenever her parents were there.

But she wished she had someone to talk to. She couldn't talk to Max, not really. Her parents, too, seemed out of the question, and everything between her and Alex was just so messed up at the moment. Michael was too wrapped up in his relationship with Maria, and it wasn't as though Isabel and Liz were talking at all anymore.

Tess had been a last-ditch effort, and even that conversation wasn't working.

"Isabel? You still there?" Tess' voice called out, interrupting Isabel's thoughts.

The hybrid Princess sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm still here," she said.

"Was there any specific reason you called?" Tess asked, and Isabel could hear the hint of worry in her voice. If anything had been really wrong, they both knew Isabel would have said it right away. But this conversation was getting drawn out for no particular reason, and Tess must have noticed that.

"No. Just… thought we'd… catch up," Isabel answered hesitantly, searching for the right words.

"Well, I've got nothing to report at my end," Tess said with a slight laugh. "Unless you want to hear all the ways Kyle can bore me with his talk of football. Honestly, I don't get why people are so obsessed with the sport. It's a whole bunch of guys tackling each other all the time, and for what? To catch a stuffed pig-skin ball?"

Isabel curled the cord of the phone around her fingers. "Mm," she said noncommittally.

"What about you?" Tess pressed. "You must have something to report."

Isabel wracked her brain for something to say, but came up blank. A surge of jealousy rushed through her at the fact that she couldn't even think of the last time she'd watched a movie with anyone, and Tess seemed to be having a perfectly normal, perfectly fun evening while the rest of them struggled just to get through the day.

She looked at the clock on the wall. Her father would come home from work later than usual now, and her mother was often gone in the evenings, too. Family dinners were slowly becoming uncommon and with Max working as many shifts as possible at the UFO Center and spending the rest of his free time wandering around the town by himself…

How had so much changed in just a few weeks?

"I've been looking at college applications," Isabel said finally. "Personal statements and that sort of thing."

"That's… productive. You know the deadlines aren't for like… another seven months or something, right?" Tess teased lightly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know," Isabel said. "I just needed something to do."

"And you chose that over… I don't know… reading a magazine? Shopping? Hanging out with your friends? Watching a movie? Careful, Izzy, or you'll turn into Liz."

Isabel wasn't really sure what angered her more – the casual use of her nickname or the mention of Liz. Either way, something about Tess' answer set her blood boiling, and before she could even think of what she was doing, she had started to yell.

"You want to know why I'm not hanging out with people? Because my parents can't talk to me anymore, because Max won't talk to anyone, because Maria and Liz still hate me, because Michael doesn't care about anything besides his girlfriend, because Alex won't even make eye contact with me, and because you've decided to skip town on all of us!"

"Isabel…"

"So no, we're not spending all of our free time watching movies! We're not happy and carefree! We're not having _fun_! That's you, that's _your_ life now." Isabel continued, the rant bursting out of her. The pent-up anger and hurt and fear that had been simmering inside of her for so long was bubbling over now, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. The words, acerbic and sharp, would not stop.

And she wasn't entirely sure she even wanted them to.

"Do you want to know what _else_ is happening in our lives? Do you want to know how Max and Liz _still_ won't speak to each other, how Alex doesn't think he can _trust_ me right now, how Michael doesn't seem to _care_ about anything? Do you want to know that the Royalists who showed up think we're going to _lose_ this? That we're all going to _die_? That we're worthless teenagers who can't do _anything_ right? And where the hell have you been during all of this? Oh… that's right. Watching _movies_. Of course. Well, at least you're having _fun_."

And without waiting for a response, she slammed down the phone.

And was somewhat surprised when, moments later, it ran again. Tess had never really been known for her patience or tolerance, and the fact that she was calling back after having just been yelled at gave Isabel pause.

But she didn't want to talk to Tess anymore.

So she let the phone ring, and didn't bother answering it.

At the other end of the phone line, Tess flopped back onto her bed and closed her eyes for a moment, thinking over everything Isabel had said. She could still hear the sounds of Kyle and his friends laughing at the movie, and she wanted to be out there with them. She wanted to be watching television instead of lying by herself in this room, thinking about Roswell.

But Isabel wouldn't answer the phone, and so the thoughts wouldn't go away. The words continue to reverberate in her head, over and over and over. She couldn't get past them, couldn't forget the raw pain and fury in Isabel's voice.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, staring at the wall opposite her as though it might offer some suggestions.

It didn't.

A few minutes later, the door opened and Kyle slipped into the room, worry in his eyes. "You still on the phone?"

She shook her head mutely.

He crossed to the bed and sat down next to her. "How are things in Roswell?" he asked with a little bit of trepidation in his tone.

"Not good," she murmured. "Not good at all."

There was a pause, then Kyle asked, "Do you have to go back?"

Tess looked over at Kyle, studying his face for a long moment. "Can I?" she asked finally.

"I'm not the one keeping you here," Kyle countered.

But Tess just shook her head and answered heavily, "Yeah, you are."

Kyle ran his fingers through his short hair and frowned, but eventually acquiesced to the truth in her statement. He gave a small shrug of his shoulders and said, "It's okay now. All the stuff that happened this past week… and last weekend… it's okay now."

But Tess knew better than to believe him.

And the events of last weekend still weighed heavily on her mind. It had been a college party, and she'd gone to a few of those in the past, so it hadn't give her any reason to worry. Except that, in the past, Kyle hadn't been looking for any excuse to let loose the anger and grief that had been plaguing him for weeks. In the past, the parties had been around Roswell, not San Francisco, and there was a big difference between those two cities. In the past, she hadn't needed to worry about getting in trouble with the police, because Jim _was_ the police.

Last weekend had been different.

And now, as she frowned in contemplation at the faint outline of the bruises on Kyle's face, she wondered how on Earth she could just walk away.

"I'll be okay," Kyle said again. "I promise."

Tess chewed her lip and looked away.

"What I did last weekend was stupid," Kyle continued softly.

"It was a little more than stupid," Tess shot back, still not looking at him. "You picked a fight with a guy twice your size. You were drunk. The police were called, and you could have ended up in jail for underage drinking and assault if I hadn't have gotten you out of there."

"You didn't need to do your little mind-trick thing on the police officer," Kyle grumbled. "I could have…"

"Could have what?" Tess queried, snapping her gaze to him. "Hit him, too? God knows you were drunk enough to consider it."

"And you've already yelled at me repeatedly for my stupidity, so can we move on to a different lecture now?" Kyle asked with a wry grin.

Tess nodded slowly. It was true, she reflected, that Kyle had figured out rather quickly how stupidly he had been acting that night. It wasn't a mistake he was going to make again, she was fairly certain of that. And not just because she'd nearly screamed at him for an hour after getting him away from the party. He didn't want to get into trouble of any kind anymore than she did.

But he was still hurting. And he was still angry, furious. And he still felt the sting of betrayal, the rage of helplessness, the grief of knowing he couldn't change the past.

And Jim was still dead.

"How bad is it in Roswell?" Kyle murmured.

"Sounds like Isabel is falling apart. And maybe everyone else," Tess groaned. She paused, then added wryly, "Then again, so are we. Although I am not sure that Isabel realizes that." The hybrid Princess' rant had been angry and full of pain, but she had apparently closed her mind to the possibility that Tess was hurting, too. That her cheerful attitude was all just a cover for the fact that she and Kyle were struggling.

"If they need you in Roswell then they need you in Roswell. This is a battle you have to win," Kyle said softly.

Tess laughed bitterly and stood up, started to pace. She blinked a few times, then said, "Can you believe we're actually having this conversation? Two clueless teenage siblings in a bedroom talking about _war_." She spun around to face Kyle, the absurdity of the entire situation weighing heavily on her. "How can we think like this? How can we talk like this? How can this be… how can this be a civil war?"

"I don't know. You tell me," Kyle replied.

Tess rolled her eyes.

"Hey, I'm new to this whole thing," Kyle said, holding his hands out in a sign of surrender. "And I don't like thinking about it, and I don't like talking about it, and I don't like remembering what happened to Dad, but…" He stopped, an internal battle raging in his eyes, then said, "But it happened. And I'm starting to get how important this is. I didn't want to know about it before, but now… now I get it. And this isn't going to go away on its own. If you need to go back… then go back."

Tess leaned against the wall, the faint sounds of their friends drifting through the closed door as the movie came to an end.

"I don't know if it will make a difference. I don't know what Isabel thinks I could do to change things," she argued. "It's not like I am going to sit down and have a heart-to-heart with… well… anyone. There will be no giggling and braiding each other's hair while dishing about boys."

Kyle shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"So you think I should go back for no reason at all? While you're hearing getting into fights and nearly getting arrested because you're too stupid to realize that getting drunk and hitting people is a bad idea?"

"You're never going to let go of that, are you?"

"No."

"I'll be okay," he said again, repeating the promise he had made earlier. She raised one eyebrow skeptically, and after much thought, he conceded, "Fine. I probably won't be okay, not really. But I won't get in trouble with the law. Or anyone else. You can go back." He climbed to his feet and crossed to the door, pausing one last time to look at her. "This is the person you are. And they are your family, they matter to you. And this war is real, and you can't pretend otherwise. You're the one who told me that."

He left the room, and Tess stared at the door for a moment, then heaved a sigh. After Kyle had learned the truth, she had been torn between wanting him to be more understanding of her responsibilities and wanting him to stay as far away from this mess as possible. Now she had both – he was understanding of what she had to do, and he was agreeing to stay behind in a different city while she went to fight a war. She was supposed to be happy about it.

So why did the whole thing feel bittersweet?

In the end, she supposed it didn't really matter. No matter how she felt about it, Kyle was right. She had to go back to Roswell.

* * *

Next Chapter: A Conversation Between Friends

Due: Sun 10/3


	8. A Conversation Between Friends

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Eight: A Conversation Between Friends

The _Santa Fe Times_ might not have been the most well-known of papers nationally, but it was certainly one of the most popular in New Mexico. However, Roswell was a small enough place that very few events from the sleepy town were reported in the newspaper, and as such, very few people from Roswell bothered to read it. So when David SinClair was originally sent to Roswell to write a soft news piece on Alex Whitman's remarkable recovery, he thought of it as more of a punishment than anything else. Did his editors really dislike him _that_ much?

He expected the Whitman family to be the usual type of Roswellians – crazy about aliens, enthusiastic about the ridiculously boring events of their little town, and willing to talk to anyone about anything. And the parents, at least, were quite a bit like what he expected. They answered his phone call without hesitation, answered his questions without reservation, and were quite frank and open about everything.

They were very proud of their straight-A, technologically-savvy son. He would go great places, they had said, and do great things. And this miracle, that he had survived a car accident and what the doctors had predicted would be a fatal coma, was only additional proof of that.

But the boy, Alex… well, he was a completely different story.

The first phone call didn't surprise David much. Alex was abrupt, refused to answer questions, and hung up quickly. No doubt, the boy was still recovering from his near-death experience. It had to be draining, and a bit disorienting, to wake up from a coma.

But the second phone call that went unanswered and unreturned, and then the third… that _did_ surprise him. In a place like Roswell, a lot of people jumped at a chance to be in the newspapers, to have their fifteen minutes of fame. Particularly when it was something like this, something so wonderful and heartwarming. But Alex hadn't. Alex didn't want to talk to him.

It was entirely possible that Alex fell into the small category of people who did not want to be noticed, did not want recognition. Perhaps he was entirely comfortable with the idea of anonymity, going as far as to prefer that to the spotlight. Certainly nothing his parents said gave any indication that Alex every really sought about attention.

And yet…

David had been a reporter long enough to trust his instincts, and something about this just didn't feel right. The one conversation he had had with Alex had left him uneasy and confused. The boy had sounded stressed and perhaps even a little afraid. Why?

It could be something unimportant. Maybe he was worried that an article would somehow reveal the fact that he drank a lot at parties or had smoked a few cigarettes behind the gym one day. Maybe he didn't want people to find out that he'd flunked a class or some similar thing.

Or maybe…

David didn't even know where that thought would lead. What did he really think he would find in Roswell beyond alien conspiracy theories and ridiculous gossip?

The _Roswell Times _and_ New Mexico Tribune_ had both reported on Alex. There had been a bit about him on one of the radio stations, in the school newspaper, and on one of the local television channels. It wasn't much, not enough to get national attention, but it was something. It was fifteen lousy minutes of fame and why wasn't Alex jumping at it?

It just didn't feel right.

It was with these thoughts in mind that David leaned back in his chair and stared thoughtfully out the window of the room he was using as his office. Like most papers, the Santa Fe Times had a sometimes amicable, sometimes competitive relationship with other papers in the state, and he had managed to convince the _New Mexico Tribune_ to let him rent one of their office spaces for a few days. If, once those days were over, he still had nothing…

Then he'd pack up and go home. No reason to stay around looking for stories that weren't there.

But what if there was a story there? What if all he had to do was find it?

But all the thinking was getting him nowhere, and some part of him thought maybe just going back to the hotel and getting some rest and break from all of this might be the best idea. If he could avoid the crowds, that is…

The first night that he had arrived and checked into the cheap motel where he was staying, he'd been one of only a few guests. But the past couple of days, the place had filled up, people flocking in as though they belonged there, as though they wanted nothing more than to visit dreary Roswell.

He couldn't remember if there was any kind of festival or convention coming up, but he doubted it. He wondered, vaguely and without much interest, why everyone was gathering.

* * *

The FBI agent was tired. Exhausted. He had spent far too much time on this project, and he still didn't know what he was looking for or if he could find it. He'd paid quite a bit of attention to the miraculous recovery of Alex Whitman, and had even considered talking to a few of the more loose-lipped reporters. But he didn't want to draw any attention to himself. It was too dangerous, and he simply could not take that chance.

He looked down at the papers spread out on his desk. The pattern was slowly emerging, although it was taking far too much time to do so. He needed answers, and he needed them soon.

But he'd have no help on this. Who would want to risk ending up like Pierce? A discredited agent who would go down in the FBI books as a lunatic.

He blinked and focused on the printout directly in front of him, the list of motel rooms in and around the town. Most of them had been booked in the past couple days, either by people calling in advance for reservations or showing up and demanding rooms. Something was happening.

Something big.

* * *

It happened quite suddenly.

One moment, Max was carefully arranging yet another display at the UFO Center while his boss flipped through a stack of papers, and the next minute Brody's mouth had fallen open in a stifled gasp, and his eyes had rolled upwards, pupils disappearing into his head.

"Brody?" Max asked, moving forward tentatively.

Brody steadied himself on the table and shook his head, eyes returning to normal. But when he stared at Max, there was something off about his expression, something strange and inexplicably familiar in his eyes.

"Brody?" Max said again.

Brody smiled grimly. "Not quite."

It took Max a minute to realize what was happening, and then he said in a breathless whisper, "Larek?"

"Zan. I mean… Max. Good to see you again," Larek said, inclining his head.

Max took a step backward, distrust and suspicion written in his expression. His memories of Larek were vague, but they were not pleasant. His supposed close friend who had turned his back on their friendship and tried to trap him in a web of unfair compromises and concessions. Larek had been all to eager to see Khivar make his bid for the throne, and maybe he hadn't known how that would end, but it still didn't justify it. Not in Max's eyes.

The Summit it New York, too, had been a trap. And Larek might not have known that Rath and Lonnie would ultimately try to kill him, but he _had_ known that Nicolas was trying to force the four hybrids into a plan that would have no doubt ended in a lifetime in prison or something similar.

And even if Larek had helped them fight the parasitic crystals last year, it didn't make up for all the other things he had done against them. It didn't make Max trust him.

"What are you doing here?" Max asked warily.

"We need to talk," Larek answered gravely. "And we need to do it quickly. I haven't had much time to prepare this body, and I don't know how long I can sustain the connection without causing irreversible harm."

"Talk?" Max echoed disbelievingly.

Larek didn't seem to notice. Or perhaps he did, but chose not to comment on it. Instead, he pushed on, "There are some rumors that you are gathering an army. Is this true?"

Max snorted and thought to himself that he wasn't the one gathering the army. The army was coming together of their own accord, with no indication that they cared at all about what he wanted.

Larek seemed to take his silence as an acquiescence, and he continued briskly, "So you mean to have this battle happen on Earth, then? Is that wise?"

Max bristled and shot back, "Did you really go to all this trouble just to question me?"

Larek sighed heavily, a look of regret flitting across his face. "We were friends once," he said softly, a bit sadly. "Do you remember that?"

Max took a step forward, eyes burning with conflicting emotions. He wanted to be friends with Larek again, if only because he wanted to have someone else he could trust, an ally in this war. But he _didn't_ trust the other alien, and that was the problem. "I remember that you turned one me. I may only have vague memories of my past life on Antar, but _that_ I remember quite clearly."

Larek narrowed his eyes. "It was not that simple," he said forcefully. "Don't presume to understand everything about politics. Not now, when it is clear to all of us just how little you remember of your past." The anger seemed to fade then, and he shook his head and turned away. "I am not here to argue with you."

"Why are you here?" Max demanded.

"I am here as a friend," Larek answered honestly. "I am only trying to offer some help."

"Why?" Max questioned guardedly.

"Because we were friends once," Larek repeated, frustration seeping into his tone. "The same reason I helped you all when the gandariumwere threatening the safety of this planet. You didn't seem so hostile then, why are you now?"

Max swallowed back the angry retort that threatened to fall from his lips and ran a hand through his hair. He had trusted Larek then because they had no other choice. He wouldn't have done it, wouldn't have asked the alien for help, if there had been any other way. But there wasn't, and it was a risk he had been willing to take.

Now he wasn't so sure.

Larek reached out quite abruptly and touched Max's forehead with the tips of two fingers, and the hybrid King was thrown haphazardly into a vision.

"_You cannot leave!"_

_She turned and looked at him, lips curling into a triumphant smile as her slender fingers closed over the metal handle of the gate. "Are you going to stop me, _your Majesty_?" she asked, her tone a faint sneer._

_He sighed. They both knew he wouldn't stop her, he never stopped her. They argued constantly about it, about the fact that she often threw caution to the wind and snuck out into the city unescorted. She was soon to be his wife and the Queen of Antar and she seemed to care little about that, or about what proprietary dictated she should be doing with her spare time._

_He looked away, and she laughed and pulled the door open, slipping through the gate and out of the palace courtyard._

"_Zan?"_

_He turned and stared in surprise at the man who was approaching. "Larek? Come to witness my inability to keep even my own betrothed in line?"_

_Larek glanced past him at the gate. "It seems to be that no one would ever succeed at getting Ava to do something she does not want to do. She is rather like your sister in that manner."_

"_Yes," he agreed bitterly. "She is." He pushed thoughts of Ava away, then, and focused instead on his visitor. "Have you come to speak to my father?"_

_Larek nodded grimly. "There is much that needs to be worked out in this new trade deal," he answered with a sigh. "Diplomacy and politics as usual. But your father is busy with other matters at the moment, and I am free to wander the gardens." _

_He looked over his shoulder, and Zan followed his gaze to see Larek's two guards trailing at a respectful distance._

"_Not alone, I see," Zan said._

"_One can never be too careful," Larek answered gravely. "Something your Ava would do well to remember in her excursions into the city."_

_Zan rolled his eyes. "She will not listen to me, Rath is far too busy with political matters to care, and Lonnie would most likely only encourage her." With a wry grin, he said, "Never marry, Larek. It will only bring you frustration."_

_Larek laughed. "I am your elder," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Is it not my job to give you advice?"_

"_Do you have any for me?" Zan replied._

_Larek studied him for a moment, then said, "Do you love her?"_

_Zan looked completely surprised by the question. And, in truth, he had not been expecting it. No one ever bothered to ask if he loved his soon-to-be wife. It was an arranged marriage, one that would benefit Antar and help stabilize some of the warring factions under his rule. What else mattered?_

_He did not answer for a long time, but instead started walking slowly along the dirt path that ran parallel to the gate. Larek walked beside him, and made no attempt to start a different conversation. He was still obviously waiting for an answer._

"_Yes," Zan said finally. "At least… I think I do. I am not… I mean, I don't… we're not in love, but…"_

"_I did not ask you if you were in love," Larek answered. "I asked you if you loved her. Which is quite different from being in love."_

_Zan hesitated, then said, "Yes. I do. But I don't… when I see my parents looking at each other, it is clear that they are in love. And sometimes I wonder… do I want that instead of this?" It was the first time he had admitted these thoughts to anyone, and it felt strange to say them aloud. But he trusted Larek, trusted that the older man would offer advice and understanding._

"_Your father was able to marry anyone he wished," Larek said, "and that made him lucky. He married your mother for love, Zan, but that did not help him secure his throne. It is why your planet, despite its incredible economic growth, still faces turmoil. You do not have the same luxury. Ava is the best political match."_

"_I know," Zan agreed. "But do you think… I mean, would I like it? Being in love?"_

"_Like it?" Larek repeated, eyebrows raised. He was smirking slightly, but then his expression grew serious as he contemplated the question. "Perhaps. I hear it can make you happy. I also hear it can make you miserable."_

"_Oh."_

_He didn't have much else to say to Larek's words. He bit his lip and thought for a moment about pointing out that his responsibilities to this planet also had the potential to make him miserable. But instead, he looked away and wondered to himself if Larek ever questioned his own abilities to rule his planet. Or was he the only one who was ever faced with self-doubts?_

"_You love Ava. Do you trust her?"_

"_Yes," Zan answered._

"_And Rath and Vilandra? Do you trust them as well?" Larek pressed._

_Zan nodded, then said, "I do. I have to, don't I? My father is sick, he's… he's dying." It was hard to say the words, to admit what he knew to be true. He would soon lose his father, and when that happened, the burden of leadership would fall to him. Would he be ready?_

_Larek reached out and placed his hand on Zan's shoulder. "It will be a great loss for all of us when that day comes," he said gravely. "But do not doubt your own ability to lead."_

"_How can I not?" Zan questioned._

_Again, Larek was silent as he considered the question. Then he said, "Perhaps it is unavoidable. But you can be a good leader, Zan. I know you can, I've watched you grow up and I know the kind of man you are. And the kind of King you will be."_

"_And my trust of the other three will help me? Will guide me on my path?" Zan said, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. He knew it wasn't so simple. Having his wife, his sister, and his best friend by his side would not ease the worries that came with the role he was soon to inherit._

_He did not want to be a king._

_He had not admitted that to anyone, either._

_What if he was not a good king? What if he failed his planet? What if he failed his people?_

_Larek must have seen the doubts in his eyes, because he said quietly, "Would you rather give your throne away? Abdicate and let the ruling class tear themselves to pieces fighting over your power?" He faced Zan fully, arms crossed over his chest. "It is good that you are hesitant. It shows you realize fully the burdens you will bear. It shows you are claiming this throne not because you want the power that comes with it, but because you know it is the right thing to do."_

_Zan accepted this in silence, then said with a soft laugh, "What would I do without your counsel?"_

_To which Larek replied with a grin, "One day, you will realize you no longer need it."_

_Zan shuddered and prayed silently that that day would never come. He could not imagine a time when he would not go to Larek with his concerns. No matter how confident and adept he might become at ruling a planet, he would always be willing to listen to his friend's advice._

Max stumbled backwards, one hand rising automatically to his forehead. The vision faded, and he was able to see his surroundings again. Larek was staring at him with an expectant expression, waiting for a reason to the memory he had brought forth for Max.

And Max didn't know what to say.

He could still feel the emotions in his chest, the way he instinctively trusted the older man. He had been so afraid of becoming of king, so doubtful of his own abilities, and Larek had been a mentor for him, someone to turn to when he needed guidance.

And yet…

He could also remember his vision of the first Summit, of the other four worlds telling him that they did not care that Khivar was starting a civil war, that they did not care about what it would do to his planet and the tentative peace there. They had cared only about their own gains…

And it had ultimately led to his death.

"I have my own planet to concern myself with, Max," Larek said unemotionally, "and politics are… messy. Bloody, sometimes. Let go of your anger while you still can. You would be a fool to turn down my help now."

"I'd be a fool to take it, too," Max answered. "And I'd be a fool to forget the past. I died, after all. And I'm not sure that this time I will get another chance at life." He took a few more steps backwards, away from Larek. "Once bitten, twice shy. What do you want, Larek? Why are you really here?"

"I told you. I am only here to help."

"With what?" Max asked skeptically.

"The war," Larek answered, impatience creeping into his tone. He began pacing, his expression filled with anger and worry. "Khivar will kill you, that much has been obvious to me since the Summit."

Max clenched his hands into fists. He really did not need another person telling him he did not have the ability to fight this war, that he would die at the hands of his enemy because he was too naïve, too inexperienced to fight back. He'd already heard it from the Royalist, from Courtney, from Trevor, from Nicolas and the other skins…

And he was starting to believe it.

"Then why didn't you speak up against the other worlds?" Max asked quietly. "If you were so convinced that Khivar would kill me, why didn't you…"

"If you had taken the deal Nicolas offered…" Larek started, but Max cut him off.

"It was a trap, and you know it. I won't hand my planet over to the people who have destroyed it."

Larek expelled a sharp breath. "This arguing is pointless. I won't openly go against the other planets. I wouldn't do it then, and I can't do it now. But I _am_ trying to help you."

"In secret?" Max questioned.

"Why do you think I went to all this trouble to contact you away from the others?" Larek answered pointedly.

"How do you plan on helping?"

"Khivar has gathered an army. He's going to attack," Larek said grimly.

"We already know that," Max said.

"Do you know when? Where?" Larek pressed.

"Do you?" Max shot back.

Larek paused his pacing. "He's still waiting for most of his army. He's not bringing that large of a force with him, but it will certainly be more than you've faced before. It's hard, though… the logistics of moving people through space…" He shook his head slowly. "It will still take him some time to get everyone here. And Nicolas' death hit him hard, he's not going to risk an open assault until he is sure he has the advantage."

"He does have the advantage," Max muttered under his breath.

"And yet you've managed to evade him for so long," Larek argued.

There was a long silence as Max considered this, and then he nodded in agreement. They had managed to evade Khivar and his skins for a lot longer than Max would have thought had he known the danger in the beginning. It was luck, most of it.

And, of course, they hadn't escaped unscathed.

"He knows an army of Royalists is gathering," Larek continued. "It worries him a little, but not as much as the knowledge of the human support you have gathered. He doesn't like unknowns, and your friends… he can't predict what they will do. He might look down on them because they are human – weak and ignorant – but he's smart enough not to dismiss them outright."

"Will he attack them?" Max demanded instantly, fear gripping him at the thought of the skins launching an all-out attack on Liz and the others.

"Maybe. I can't be sure, but I do know he will be watching them." Larek hesitated, then added, "You are rapidly running out of time. This war will end one way or another… and I would guess it will be over by the end of the year."

Max ran a hand through his hair. "You said Khivar was moving an army through space. Does that mean he's coming to Earth?"

Larek swallowed uneasily, and replied, "Max… Khivar is already _on_ Earth."

* * *

Next Chapter: Home Again

Due: Sun 10/10


	9. Home Again

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Nine: Home Again

"Tess. You're… back."

The blonde turned around, a smug smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "You sound a bit disappointed," she said, raising an eyebrow at the hybrid General standing in the doorway to her apartment. She hadn't bothered to call ahead, knowing that now that she shared an apartment building with Michael, he would notice the minute she returned.

"You're early," Michael said, stepping further into the room and shutting the door behind him.

Tess had a moment of déjà vu, remembering the conversation she had had with Liz before leaving. It had started exactly like this, with the brunette standing hesitantly near the door and Tess watching her, waiting for the inevitable argument.

She sighed and looked around the apartment, needing a moment to collect her thoughts. She still wasn't particularly pleased about being back here instead of with Kyle and his new friends, but it wasn't the time to get into that issue. She had made her choice, she'd chosen to come back, and she had to stick with it.

"I am early," she agreed finally, still staring at the room. It was unpacked, but it didn't look lived in. It didn't feel like home. It seemed more like a place she could stay while passing through, a hotel room or a bed and breakfast.

"Everything okay?" Michael questioned, a bit suspiciously.

"It's fine," she assured him, waving away his concerns. "Isabel called and she… she didn't sound good. I wanted to…" She trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence.

"What do you mean?" Michael asked sharply, crossing to the small dining area and pulled out a hard-backed chair. Sinking into it, he tilted his head to the side and regarded Tess curiously. "Isabel's been fine."

Tess widened her eyes. "You're kidding, right?" she scoffed. But Michael just stared back at her blankly, and Tess shook her head in frustration. "Have you actually spoken to her lately? I mean… _really_ talked to her?"

"We talked when the two new Royalists visited us," Michael said defensively.

"Okay," Tess said with a shrug. She didn't want to get into an argument with Michael over this. If he thought that Isabel was doing fine, she was not going to bother disabusing him of that notion. Fixing their relationship wasn't her problem.

But Michael didn't really seem willing to let it go.

"What did Isabel talk to you about?"

"Well, it was less her talking to me as yelling at me," Tess answered flippantly. "She said a whole lot about how her life was falling apart and we were all going die. Or something like that."

Michael scratched his eyebrow. "So you came back?"

Folding her arms over her chest, Tess nodded. "Yeah. I came back."

Michael accepted this silently, and Tess could practically see the thoughts running through his mind. He didn't want to believe – _couldn't_ believe – that Isabel could be struggling so much, and yet, he knew Tess never would have put her plans on hold and returned early unless she was truly worried about the hybrid Princess. And Tess wasn't one to panic or overreact, at least, not unless Kyle was involved.

He scratched his eyebrow again.

"How are you?" Tess said, fishing around for a new topic. "How's Maria?"

"Okay. Um… Max told you about the Royalists, right?" Michael asked, leaning forward. "Patrick and Lillian?"

"Yes. I understand they think we're going to die," she said flatly. "It's an optimistic outlook."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Do Max or Isabel know that you're back?"

She shook her head, blonde curls bouncing. "No, I haven't told anyone yet." She chewed her lip for a moment, then asked tentatively, "How's Alex?" It wasn't that she didn't want to know how he was doing, but the very thought of the human boy sent her mind down a path she didn't want to follow.

The thoughts always ended with Courtney and Jim.

"He's healing well, I think. Isabel could probably tell you more," Michael answered.

Tess opened her mouth to say something, then stopped. With a sigh, she said, "I don't think Isabel has really talked to Alex much." Again, a pause, before continuing, "At least not recently. Maria and Liz might know more."

Michael's eyes narrowed a bit at the mention of Liz, but he didn't comment. The bad feelings that had existed between the brunette and the other three hybrids when Tess left had clearly not been resolved.

Tess found she didn't really care.

"Well, Maria says he is doing well," Michael said. "She sees him a lot. Some… some reporters have been writing about him."

"Yeah," Tess said. "I saw a couple articles. It didn't look like anything too bad."

"You sound like Max," Michael grumbled. "He doesn't want to do anything. Just lay low and pray that it will all turn out okay."

"Do you have a plan for getting rid of the reporters?" Tess questioned.

"We have to do _something_."

"Yes, but do you have a _plan_?" Tess asked again. When Michael didn't answer – and his silence was answer enough – she added, "Then I don't know what we can do."

"So you just don't care?" Michael snapped. "What happened? Hanging out with Kyle made you give up on the rest of us?"

Tess felt her anger growing at Michael's words, and retorted without thinking, "Would you get over yourself for thirty seconds and _think_? What exactly do you want us to do? Kill all the reporters? Because I'm not sure that that will actually solve anything for us. Might just draw more attention."

Michael pushed the chair back and stood up. "You can't just come here after being gone for so long and lecture me on…"

"Long? It's not like I went on Safari. I was in San Francisco for a few weeks," Tess defended herself.

Michael looked away and rubbed the back of his head absently.

"It's been a stressful couple of weeks?" Tess offered. She didn't really want to argue with Michael, and it was clear that he didn't want to argue with her, either.

"Yeah," Michael agreed. "Stressful. You should call Isabel and Max and let them know you're back. They'll want to know. I'm sure they'll be happy."

Tess nodded slowly, "I will."

Michael turned to leave, but at the door, he paused and glanced quickly at her over his shoulder. "How's Kyle?" he asked in concern.

Tess forced a smile to her lips and answered, "He's fine."

It was a complete lie, but if Michael noticed that, he did not call her on it. He just nodded once and left the apartment, shutting the door quietly behind him.

* * *

"So… you're back," Isabel said quietly, glancing at Tess as the petite girl sat down on the sofa in the living room. "It's early. I thought you weren't coming back until…"

"Change of plans," Tess interrupted. "Did Max say why he called this meeting?"

"No," Isabel murmured, perching on the edge of the chair opposite. Max had said almost nothing, except that he needed everyone – including Maria, Alex, and Liz – to meet at their house as soon as possible. She had made the phone call as requested, knowing by the frantic tone of his voice that it was important. The call to Michael had revealed that Tess was back, and so she had been recruited for the meeting as well.

Michael and Maria were standing near the door, talking. They were still waiting for Max, and for Liz, who was picking up Alex.

"How are Kyle and his… friends?" Isabel asked.

Tess shrugged. "Fine, I guess."

Isabel nodded and didn't ask anything else. She was still a little surprised that Tess was here, and could only assume that her reappearance had something to do with their previous phone call. Certainly Max and Michael hadn't done anything to encourage her to come back early.

There was still some simmering anger at the thought of Tess enjoying herself in San Francisco while the rest of them suffered with the aftermath of what had happened. But for the moment, that anger was overridden by the fear at Max's phone call, at the possibility that something big could have happened.

There was a knock at the door, and Michael opened it quickly, stepping aside to let Liz and Alex enter. Liz froze upon seeing Tess, but then nodded in welcome, and, to Isabel's surprise, Tess responded with a genuine smile.

Alex walked immediately to the sofa and sat down, putting a little bit of distance between himself and Tess. It didn't appear to be a conscious decision, and Isabel could see the dark circles under Alex's eyes and the fatigue in his expression. No doubt, he just needed to rest.

"Hi, Alex," Tess said quietly, slanting a look at him.

Alex forced a smile. "Hi. Welcome back," he said.

And that was the end of the conversation. The room was silent, Michael now looking towards the door as they waited for Max, and Maria and Liz standing side-by-side but not talking. Isabel gazed at the window, and out of the corner of her eye saw Tess idly twirling a curl around one finger while Alex closed his eyes and rested his hands in his lap.

A few minutes passed, then Maria asked sharply, "Should it really be taking Max this long? Where was he when he called?"

"The UFO Center," Isabel replied, her own worry gnawing at her. "I'll give him a few more minutes and then if he's not here I can call and…"

She was interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up in front of the house, and she walked briskly to the window and pulled aisde the shade to get a better view. Max was climbing out of his car, but he wasn't alone. Isabel caught a glimpse of fiery red hair, and then turned back to the others in the room with a puzzled expression.

"He brought Kristalia."

There was a murmuring in response to that, and Michael muttered under his breath, "Do we trust her?" But they didn't get a chance to discuss that very pertinent topic before the door to the house was opened and Max entered.

Like Liz, he stopped when he saw Tess, and then he smiled. She smiled back, but it looked a bit more like a grimace. And it didn't reach her eyes.

Kristalia entered briskly, stepping around Max and walking further into the room. She didn't appear at all surprised to see Tess – in fact, she did not seem to even care about it – and instead addressed Isabel, "Is your mother home?"

"No. She's shopping," Isabel said.

"Good," the Royalist said. "We have a lot to discuss."

"Maxwell, what happened?" Michael demanded.

Max closed the front door firmly behind him, locked it, and then, facing everyone, said, "I spoke to Larek. Or, rather, he spoke to me."

"_What_?" It was Maria who spoke, but the same sentiment was plain on everyone's faces. Michael took a step closer to Max, as though his presence could somehow force the hybrid King to explain everything faster, but Max needed no encouragement. He ran a hand through his hair and began to speak, the words falling rapidly from his lips.

"He possessed Brody, said he needed to talk to me. He said he wants to help us. I told him I didn't trust him…"

"Which we _don't_," Tess said hotly.

"…but he did help us with the parasitic crystals from our ship," Max finished.

"He sold us out," Michael growled. "_Twice_."

"I know. But he had information, and I am not sure we're in any position to refuse to listen," Max said with a weary exhale. "He had a lot to say. About Khivar, about Nasedo, about a man named Kal…"

"Who is Kal?" Isabel asked, shuddering. She didn't want to think about Khivar or Nasedo, so it seemed safest to ask about him.

"Not someone who can be trusted," Kristalia said furiously. "He'll find a way to ruin you, I promise." And she glared at Max. It was clear that the two of them had had this argument in the car, and whatever the reason, the redhead was definitely against allying themselves with this newcomer.

"Is he a skin?" Michael questioned.

"No," Kristalia said. She hesitated, then continued, "His name is Kalier and he was a noble on Antar. He fled before the war started in earnest, before the four of you were killed. He sought sanctuary on Larek's planet for a time, and then, when Khivar started looking for him, he left there as well. Came to Earth. Called himself Cal Langley."

"Langley?" Alex interrupted, eyes snapping open as he joined in the conversation with an incredulous tone to his voice. "As in the film director?" Isabel had never heard of him, but Alex clearly had, and he continued, "He does a lot of science fiction movies. He's big in Hollywood. Rich and famous."

"And he doesn't want to give up any of it," Kristalia said bitterly. "He won't help. You can force him too, but it will do you little good. There's always a loophole, and he'll find it."

"A loophole? To what?" Liz asked. She had crossed the room and was now standing almost as far away from Max as she could. Isabel noticed this, but found herself entirely disinterested in it. Her brother's relationship problems were not her concern, and she still wasn't feeling too kindly towards Liz at the moment.

She turned her attention back to the Royalist. It was evident that Kristalia did not want to be having this conversation, but she looked somewhat resigned to the fact that they were going to demand answers before deciding whether or not to trust her judgment.

"On Antar, he was a protector of the Royal Family. A few nobles were given that task, but Khivar killed all of them except Kal. He escaped, as I said, and was able to avoid death. But he, unfortunately, could not avoid his own biological makeup." She pursed her lips, then said, "Protectors were biologically engineered before birth to be forced to follow direct orders from the Royal Family."

"That's horrible," Liz breathed, and Maria and Alex murmured their own outrage.

"How could that… how is that possible?" Tess asked, stumbling over the words. "Why would anyone allow that to be done to their own children? It would make them little more than… than _slaves_."

Kristalia laughed harshly. "You still don't understand just how… mythical… the Royal Family is. People were glad to serve you, to protect you. You were gods to some… Most protectors did not mind their service. It was considered a great honor. But Kal… he did mind. He hated it. There was nothing he could do while you were alive, at least… that's what we thought. But he wasn't supposed to be able to flee during the war. His biology should have forced him to stay and protect you. He found a loophole somehow. And if you track him down now, he will find another one. And he will sell you out to Khivar if he has to, as long as it means he doesn't have to leave Earth and join in this war. He _cannot_ be trusted."

"Then why would Larek want us to contact him?" Michael demanded suspiciously.

It was Max who answered. "Kal has contacts. He thinks – Larek thinks – that Kal could be useful to us. Could help us if we can just convince him to fight."

"Easier said than done," Kristalia spat.

"It's too dangerous," Isabel agreed. "I don't want to go seeking out someone who might just betray us. Haven't we already had enough of that?"

There was a silence among the group as everyone digested what Isabel had said, as they thought of Courtney. Alex stiffened, and Liz instinctively crossed to his side and rested her hand on his shoulder, a comforting gesture. Isabel felt a momentary pang of jealousy at that sight, at the fact that _she_ wasn't the one offering reassurance and strength.

It wasn't fair. None of it was fair, and she was getting tired of watching her entire life crumble.

"I think we should keep the possibility open, but not contact Kal unless we absolutely have to," Maria suggested.

Tess chuckled. "Who would have ever guessed that something that intelligent could come from you?" she said sardonically, giving Maria a smirk. The pixie blonde human opened her mouth to retort, but Tess continued smoothly, "I agree. We might need his help in the future so we can't completely rule this out. But I see no reason to contact him now. I don't want a repeat of what happened with Courtney." She paused just long enough for all eyes to focus on her, then added, "We don't want to lose another parent, do we?"

Liz and Maria flinched, and Max looked just as horrified as Isabel felt at that particular thought. Alex buried his head in his hands.

Michael broke the tense silence. "What did Larek say about Nasedo? He's dead, isn't he, so why would we care?"

"That's rather insensitive of you," Kristalia said with a thin smirk.

Michael rolled his eyes, and at the same time, Max said, "Larek thinks there is more to that death than what Courtney told us. We don't know all the details, and he doesn't either. But… I don't know. He just seemed to think that we couldn't… shouldn't… forget about Nasedo so quickly."

"And what did he say about Khivar?" Michael continued.

Max drew a breath, his eyes moving to Isabel. She felt a foreboding sensation in her stomach, and before he could even speak the words, she knew what he was going to say and it terrified her.

"He's on Earth."

"No," Isabel breathed, the word soft and horrified. "No… no. He… he can't be. He can't…" She didn't know what else to say, and could only stand there and shake her head in denial. "No… no." She knew what this meant, knew why Max was staring at her with a mixture of sympathy and concern, knew why all eyes were now burning into her with an intensity that was both frightening and reassuring. They were all worried for her… and afraid of her. Of what could happen, what she could become…

"Izzy," Michael said softly, reaching out towards her, and her gaze moved to his face.

She stepped backwards. "No."

It was just one word, a single, repeated syllable. But it encompassed everything she was thinking and feeling. Max and Michael were afraid of her, of what she could and probably would do. They were afraid of her, really, truly afraid. How could this have ever happened? How could the people that mean so much to her now be looking at her as though she would become the enemy?

But she knew the answer to that.

Because she could become the enemy.

She turned and raced from the room, disappearing down the hallway and stumbling into her father's office. She collapsed to the floor, pushing herself back against the wall and pulling her knees into her chest. She wasn't crying – she couldn't cry – but the fear in her chest was spreading, traveling through her veins, turning her blood to ice.

Khivar was on Earth.

On Antar, she had betrayed her brother, her betrothed, her sister-in-law, her people. And she had almost done it all again, when Nicolas had her in the skin compound. She had almost let the person inside of her take complete, permanent control, and if she hadn't been rescued…

She couldn't fight Vilandra. She couldn't fight Nicolas.

And she wouldn't be able to fight Khivar.

Especially now that he was on Earth.

She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, feeling her lungs expand and contract. She tried to calm herself, but her body would not obey her mind's commands.

Khivar was on Earth.

The door opened slowly, creaking on its hinges, and she tilted her head to the side and looked up into a pair of concerned blue eyes. They were pitying her, but she could also see the underlying unease, and she felt something in her heart start to shatter, unable to take his disappointment.

He sat down next to her and draped an arm over her shoulders.

"It will be okay."

"No, Alex, it won't," she contradicted him, the words almost sticking in her dry throat. A few tears broke free and slid down her cheeks, and he reached over and wiped them away with his thumb.

They were both quiet for a moment.

"How do you know I won't hurt everyone? Again?" she whispered.

"I guess I don't," Alex answered.

"You don't trust me." It wasn't a question. They had already discussed this, and he had already admitted as much. She was merely stating a fact.

"I love you," he said. "Everything else… we can work through it." He paused, then gestured in the general direction of the living room. "And Max, Michael, Tess… they all love you, too. Trust can be gained again. Issues can be fixed… resolved."

She stood up, pulling away from him in the process. "Not always," she said, her voice hard and flat. "Liz and Maria don't talk to me, Max keeps thinking I'm going to betray him, Michael doesn't care about anything or anyone besides Maria, and you don't trust me. That isn't going to get better, Alex. It isn't going to suddenly get fixed, it isn't…." She stopped and turned away, shaking her head. "You weren't there. You didn't see the way Liz and Maria blamed me… all four of us, really… for this. Like they weren't at all responsible for any of it, like they didn't do anything stupid and irresponsible. You didn't hear the arguments, you didn't…"

"Well, no. I was in a coma," Alex interrupted. "So it made it hard for me to hear anything."

She turned towards him again. "Michael and Max didn't care. I mean… they cared, but not enough to do anything about it. You weren't dead, but they were still acting like you were, like you couldn't be saved. And yet they have the nerve to stand there and act like _I'm_ the one who wasn't thinking about anyone else?"

Alex's expression was devoid of all emotion as he replied, "I'm sure they cared."

Isabel stopped, realizing what she had said, and felt herself crumble at that. "Oh, Alex, I didn't mean that they didn't care…"

He relented a little, his expression softening. "I know. And I've heard Maria and Liz complain about it enough to know what happened. I know… I know that they were concerned with keeping everyone safe."

"They wanted to help you. We all wanted to help you," she whispered.

"But Maria and Liz were only thinking about me to the detriment of everyone else, and Max and Michael were only thinking about the group to the detriment of my health and safety," Alex finished. "And you…"

"I was only thinking about myself, about my guilt, about my needs," Isabel said bitterly. "Isn't that right?"

"That's not what I was going to say," Alex answered honestly. "It's not what they think."

Isabel licked her lips and sank slowly back down to the floor, sitting next to Alex again. "It's what it feels like they are thinking."

Alex didn't have anything to say to that, and so they remained quiet for a while, each of them lost in their own thoughts, and neither of them noticing as Michael slipped quietly away from the door.

* * *

When Michael returned to the living room, leaving Isabel and Alex in the office, the others were quiet, and the air was strained and filled with unease. Everyone seemed to be thinking about Khivar and what it meant for him to be on Earth, to be so close to them. It meant the war was coming. It meant that it could no longer be avoided, and not even postponed. They had to be ready.

Then Max said tentatively, "Larek also said we shouldn't refuse help from Courtney's faction just because of what she did."

"He wants us to trust them?" Michael asked skeptically.

"Absolutely not!" Maria said firmly, her voice underlined with steel.

"She betrayed us. The rest of them didn't. And they might not want me on the throne," Max argued, "but they certainly don't want Khivar." He paused, then shrugged awkwardly and said, "At least, that is what Larek thinks."

"So, he wants us to trust a the rebel skins and a protector who might betray us to Khivar?" Michael repeated. "Are we sure he's actually trying to _help_?"

"When we fight Khivar, we're going to need all the help we can get," Kristalia said softly. "You have made it clear that you are not willing to simply leave Roswell and hide – even though that would be the most prudent course of action – which means you will not be as prepared when he comes. You cannot afford to turn down allies."

"We can't afford to trust more traitors, either," Tess countered.

"You need to be thinking about this war," Kristalia argued. "And you need to take chances. You may not like it…"

"Like it?" Tess echoed angrily, raw pain in her voice. "My father was murdered. I think _may not like it_ isn't quite strong enough."

"She's right," Michael agreed emphatically. "The Sheriff died and Whitman almost did as well. Who is next? Maria? Liz? Mr. and Mrs. Evans?"

"You contacted me because Larek told you I could be trusted," Kristalia said, looking at Max. "After you talked to him, you came to _me_ for help, you asked _me_ to be at this meeting. If you don't trust Larek, why did you do that? Why did you take his advice on this? And if you're not willing to listen to what I am saying, then why bother bringing me here?"

"I'd like to not have to bury more people," Max said defensively. "We're a little hesitant to risk that."

"It's a war and people die. You're going to bury someone. It's inevitable," the Royalist argued.

Liz had been silently listening to all of this. Something about Kristalia's words struck her, and she closed her eyes for a moment, thinking.

She had been surprised to receive the phone call asking her to come to this meeting. She hadn't been included in meetings since Alex's woke from his coma, and she had nothing to contribute here. No idea what to do, what to say, what advice or opinions to offer. Her presence was entirely unnecessary.

Her mind wandered briefly to boarding school. Wouldn't it be better for everyone if she was out of the way? Wouldn't it be easier if she wasn't a distraction?

Michael's voice, sharp and angry, cut through her thoughts, "I am _not_ risking Maria."

The conversation had continued, and Liz wasn't sure what they were talking about now, but Michael was glaring with such utter disgust at Kristalia, and the redhead was staring back, unmoved and unafraid.

"What you are doing right now _is_ risking her. It's risking all of them," and the Royalist glanced over at Liz as well, "all the people you want to protect. Don't you see that? Khivar will be wary of your humans, but he will certainly not have any compulsion against killing them. Your Maria, Alex, Liz… your parents… they'll all die. So far, the only one you've managed to protect is the Queen's brother," she gave Tess a quick look, "and that was by sending him away."

"So you think we should all leave?" a voice asked, and Alex re-entered the room.

Isabel was not with him.

But Kristalia did not comment on Isabel's absence, and even as Liz made a mental note of the fact that the hybrid Princess was still missing from a rather important conversation, she focused most of her attention on Kristalia, waiting for an answer.

Should she leave?

"If you are determined to protect everyone – and keep in mind that you truly _can't_ prevent some death in this war – then yes, I think the best course of action is for those you are so concerned about to leave."

And it was then that Liz chose to speak.

"I was looking into boarding schools." All eyes swung towards her, but she was staring at Max as she pressed on into the uncomfortable silence, "Well, actually, my father was looking at them. I could… I could leave Roswell."

Future Michael had told her that, when she left Roswell in the past, Khivar had hunted her down and killed her. She remembered that, remembered the haunted look in his eyes as he recalled that painful period. But Khivar had come after her because he knew it would hurt Max… and would he do that this time? Would he focus on her, or would he put his efforts into going after the people that had killed his brother? Would he be more concerned with avenging Nicolas' death than tracking down a single human girl?

A lot had changed. They had altered the future, and she could only hope that they had made it better. Was she willing to take that chance, though? Was she willing to gamble everything on the belief that things were different now?

"You're going away?" Michael asked numbly. She watched as his gaze flicked past her to Maria, and then Alex, and saw his eyes widen with the realization that they _didn't_ look surprised. They already knew.

"I'm thinking about it," she hedged, sparing him only a glance before looking back at Max. "Kristalia seems to think it would be a good idea. You don't need me here. I'd be… out of the way."

She couldn't read Max's expression. She couldn't tell what was happening behind his emotionless eyes. She had no idea what he was thinking.

He knew of Future Michael's warning. He didn't know all the details, of course. Liz hadn't been able to relate everything, but she told him the things that mattered. She told him the little she knew of the future, of what could happen. What _had_ happened.

Did he remember that?

Did he care?

"You can't really think running is going to help," Michael protested, but he sounded unsure, conflicted. He had turned his attention back to Maria, and she could see the thoughts in _his_ mind, could tell that he was wondering if perhaps he should try to convince Maria and her mother to leave as well.

"I think it's a good idea," Max said flatly.

Liz met his gaze without flinching. She had her answer.

The rest of the conversation faded, and she kept staring at Max. They were talking, Michael and Maria were arguing, Alex was staring at the entire room as though he couldn't quite believe that everything was unfolding like this, Kristalia was making more suggestions, more demands, and Tess was listening quietly, looking almost bored.

But Liz was staring only at Max.

Some part of her truly hadn't believe that it was over. Some part of her had thought that there was a way to work past this. But there wasn't. She saw that now. A war was coming, and there was no longer anything she could do to help. Her presence was hurting the group, dividing them. She was in the way, and obstacle on their path to success.

To survival.

Very little in her life made sense, but the one thing she knew for certain was that, no matter how angry, hurt, or betrayed she might feel, she did not want any of them to die.

"So we just convince people to hide and then what? Wait for the inevitable slaughter?" Tess asked coldly.

"We train. We learn how to fight back," Michael argued.

"It's the best plan," Kristalia agreed. "If you won't listen to anything else I have to offer…"

"How is this a good plan?"

Liz blinked and tore her gaze from Max, looked over at Tess instead. The blonde had her hands on her hips and was frowning at Kristalia as though she could not understand what the Royalist was saying.

"Tess…"

"You keep talking about this like we have a chance," Tess scoffed. "You want to train in the desert, Michael? Spend hours working on blowing up things? How is that going to help?"

"A bit pessimistic, aren't you?" Max demanded.

Tess sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I'm not… I'm not trying to be pessimistic, Max. I just think we need to be realistic about this. I won't trust more of Courtney's faction, not after what happened. But with this… this Kal… I don't know. I might be tempted to ask for his help, because, let's face it, we _need_ help."

"We don't…"

Tess interrupted Max, not letting him finish. "Michael is right, we need to train. But we also need to face the reality of what this is. It's Khivar. It's an alien who has had decades of experience, who is stronger than we could possibly imagine, who has already succeeded in killing us once. And what are we? Four teenagers with powers we _still_ don't fully understand? You talk about being organized, about being prepared for the battle. But is there really any amount of training we can do that is going to make us _ready_?"

Tess' words lingered in the sudden, discomforting quiet that had fallen. The simple truths in them could not be denied.

They were going to lose.

* * *

Next Chapter: Strange Meetings

Due: Sun 10/17


	10. Strange Meetings

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: This chapter is a bit different from usual. It is a series of snippets, introducing the Royalist Army. There are a whole bunch of names of aliens given in this chapter. Most of them are not important, so don't worry about remembering them.

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Ten: Strange Meetings

Diane hurried to the front door as the incessant knocking continued, glancing quickly at the clock and wondering who would be stopping by in the middle of the day. She wasn't expecting anybody, and as far as she knew, neither was Max. Isabel and Philip were both out, so it couldn't be for them.

She yanked open the door and found herself staring into the soft brown eyes of a stunningly handsome man in his late forties. His brown hair fell over his forehead with a sort of casual grace, and his lips parted into a smile that revealed perfect teeth. He was a bit taller than average, well-built, and tan.

She gawked for a moment, then quickly regained control of herself and said, "Can I help you?"

"Ms. Evans?" he asked, his voice smooth and sultry. "I am looking for your son."

"Max?" Diane asked, surprised. "Oh, well, alright…" She glanced over her shoulder, feeling heat suffuse her face as the stranger continued to gaze at her with a soft smile. It took a moment for her brain to kick in, however, and she realized with a start that if he was here to see Max, there was a chance he wasn't entirely human.

Was he an enemy? Was he dangerous?

It was too late to pretend that Max didn't live here, but she could at least buy her son some time in case he needed to escape.

"Please, come in," she said, stepping aside and gesturing for him to enter. She raised her voice just enough to know that Max, who was in the kitchen, could hear her. "What did you say your name was?"

He smiled. "You can call me Ahab."

"Ahab?" Diane asked, surprised. "That's an… unusual name." Who named their child after the ill-fated captain from Moby Dick, a man whose single-minded need for revenge ended up destroying his ship and killing everyone?

The man simply smiled.

"How do you know my son?" Diane asked, again keeping her voice loud enough for Max to hear.

"It's complicated," Ahab answered enigmatically.

Diane accepted this in silence, then offered, "Please, have a seat. I will go get Max for you." And as Ahab settled himself into the sofa, she hurried into the kitchen.

Max had already risen to his feet, his eyes darting back and forth between his mother and the back door. She could see the hesitation in his eyes. He wanted to flee, but another part of him refused to leave her alone with a possible enemy.

"Go," she whispered. "Just get out of here."

Max swallowed, then shook his head. "You come, too," he said, and it wasn't a request. His tone made it very clear that he was issuing an order, and he didn't even stay to see if she would protest. Instead, he started moving towards the backdoor, expecting her to follow.

She did. After all, escape made the most sense.

And so they left, with the stranger still sitting alone in the living room, unaware of their departure.

* * *

"Aw… damn it!" Michael swore under his breath as he knocked over the entire display of cereal boxes with one awkward, clumsy stumble. He caught himself against the wall and managed to stay upright, but then discovered that he was standing amidst several boxes that were scattered on the floor, and he groaned.

An elderly woman with platinum blonde hair and way too much makeup approached him. "Are you alright, sir?" she asked, smiling softly. She had to have been about seventy, and she smelled like moth balls.

"I'm fine," Michael assured her. "Just embarrassed."

She reached down and picked up a few boxes. "We are all clumsy at some point in our lives," she answered, setting the cereal containers back on the display and looking around the grocery store. "I'm Ada, by the way."

Michael opened his mouth, unsure if he was supposed to introduce himself as well, and then floundered for words when he realized that her eyes were wandering up and down his body.

She grinned. "Oh, don't worry, General, I already knew who you are. And you are every bit as adorable as Patrick said you would be." She reached out and grasped his hand, shaking it firmly. "I'll be seeing you around, hun. You just let me know if you need anything before the war really starts, alright? I may be a highly trained solider, but I'm also a fabulous cook, and you look like you could use a little meat on those bones."

And she turned and drifted away, leaving Michael to stare at her in dumbfounded silence.

Were his soldiers even _allowed_ to call him adorable?

* * *

"Your Majesty."

Tess spun around, body tense, eyes narrowed. She knew what that title meant, knew that the only people who would utter it had to be aliens. Had the skins come to Roswell again?

But the person in front of her was a child. A little boy, perhaps eight years old, licking a giant lollypop and staring at her through innocently wide eyes. His sandy blonde hair flopped messily onto his forehead, and his tongue was bright blue from the candy.

"May I present myself, your Majesty?" the boy said, his voice high-pitched, almost squeaky. "I am Lord Khorb, Commander of the 7th Infantry Division under General Rath."

Tess folded her arms over her chest. "And you decided to be an eight-year-old while on Earth?"

"It seemed prudent to disguise myself in such a way, your Majesty. It is unlikely any of the skins or humans will be suspicious of a child," he explained. And though he sounded like a young boy, his words were grave and serious, his face solemn. "However, should it displease yourself, his Highness King Zan, or General Rath, I would be more than happy to investigate other options for…"  
"I don't think anyone is going to care," Tess answered. She paused, then added, "But you look ridiculous."

The boy nodded. "Yes, your Majesty."

Tess frowned. "Are you required to agree with everything I say?"

"You are the Queen, your Majesty. I may take my orders from General Rath, but that does not mean that I will ignore you or the King." The boy – no, the _Lord_, Tess reminded herself – smiled politely and inclined his head once more. "I must bid you good day, your Majesty."

And he turned and walked away, sucking on the lollypop and smiling at all the adults who stopped to murmur how cute he was.

* * *

The three teenage boys gaped at Isabel as she crossed the street quickly, their eyes following her movements.

She blinked once or twice, a smile on her features. Things between her and Alex were slowly thawing, the awkwardness that had plagued them finally giving way to a more comfortable relationship. They still had a long way to go – and she knew she had her own issues to deal with – but for the first time in a couple months, she was actually happy.

Of course, Tess was convinced they were all going to die, Max was still debating whether or not to trust Larek and his advice, and Michael was now splitting all his time between hanging with Maria and training in the desert…

But even Michael had been different. His preoccupation with Maria was still there, but he had actually taken the time to check in with her that morning, to see how she was doing. She wasn't sure what to make of that, but she wasn't going to complain.

She was happy to have the attention.

Her thoughts trailed off as she turned towards the teenagers who were still staring at her. They looked to be about her age, but she didn't recognize them, and was immediately alert. There were very few people at Roswell High School that she didn't at least vaguely recognize, but these three were complete strangers.

One of them stepped forward. His jet black hair stuck up at odd angles, reminding her a bit of Michael. His black eyes held no warmth, but there was a little bit of awe in them.

"Princess," he greeted cordially.

Isabel tensed. "Who are you?" she demanded.

One of the other boys whistled softly and gave her an appreciative look, his eyes travelling up and down her body. She shivered, very much not liking the scrutiny.

The third boy reached over and slapped his companion on the back of the head, hissing, "Show some respect, Li."

The first boy spoke quickly, "I must apologize for my companion, Princess," he said, eyes hard and cold as he glared back at the other two. "Li is new to the army and has not yet learned his manners."

The boy in question, Li, dropped his gaze and looked embarrassed.

The black-haired boy continued, "You may call me Samuel, Princess. The three of us – Li and William and I – are soldiers in your betrothed's army."

The boy who must have been William added, "It is an honor to meet you again, Princess."

Isabel opened and closed her mouth a few times, unable to come up with anything coherent to say. Her stunned silence didn't really seem to bother them, though, and Samuel continued speaking with a brisk, no-nonsense manner.

"We were simply scouting the land, Princess, to see what kind of town this is. We did not mean to intrude upon your day. When the rest of us are here, we will no doubt meet with you, King Zan, Queen Ava, and General Rath."

The other two boys nodded in agreement.

"Until we meet again, Princess," Samuel bid her farewell with a faint smile and a nod of his head. His companions murmured the same, echoing his sentiment, and the three of them withdrew quickly, disappearing down the sidewalk.

Isabel stared after them, not quite able to comprehend what had just happened.

* * *

When Max and Mrs. Evans burst into her apartment, Tess nearly dropped the phone she was holding. She had been about to make a phone call, but the wild look on Max's face had her setting down the phone and tensing, ready for an attack.

"Max? What's going on?" Tess asked, hurrying towards him.

"There was a stranger at my house. An alien, I think. I could feel… power… radiating from him," Max said nervously. "He came to see me, but my Mom and I left… he might still be there… but Michael wasn't in his apartment…"

He was rambling, but Tess wasn't really listening. Anxiety filled her as she said, "I was visited by an alien today, too. A Royalist, part of the army. Do you think… do you think they're here? The whole army… Or was this man an enemy? Another skin? Or a shape-shifter?"

"I don't know," Max murmured.

* * *

"Alex? Alex, you need to get out of wherever you are. Can you come over? I'm not home yet, but… Or… maybe go to Michael's apartment. That's closer, I can meet you there."

"Isabel?" Alex asked, pushing aside the keyboard of his computer and focusing on the nervous voice spilling out over the cell phone. "What's wrong? What's going on?"

"I don't… I don't know…" Her voice caught, the words stopping abruptly, and then she added, "There were some… Czechoslovakians. Royalists. They're here, and they talked to me, and I think… I mean, I know they're on our side, but…"

"Isabel, calm down," Alex said firmly, trying to put together the pieces of what she was saying. The first question that came to mind was for her well-being, and he asked, in a sharper tone, "Are you alright? Did they try to hurt you?"

"No. No, I'm fine. But I think there are others and I… you shouldn't be alone right now."

"Aren't they on our side?" Alex asked cautiously.

"Courtney was supposed to be on our side, too!" Isabel practically screeched. The reality of her words caused him to stop, to freeze, to really think about the situation. Her fear was not simply irrational reactions to the situation. Why did Max and the others trust the Royalists when it had already been proven that even aliens on their side could betray them?  
With fatal results.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. I can meet you at Michael's. My Mom is home, I can get her to drive me over there… Is Michael at his apartment? Have you spoken to him?"

"I don't know. I mean, I haven't talked to him. But I can… I know how to get into his apartment if he's not there, and it's still… it's safer. I'll call him, get the others…" She trailed off.

Alex reached over and quickly shut down his computer. Still holding the cell phone, he jumped to his feet. His body, not ready for such a movement, wavered something, and he inhaled sharply, struggling to keep his balance.

Isabel must have heard his intake of breath, because she asked quickly, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he rushed to assure her. "I just…" He didn't want to get into this conversation with her. With anyone, really. It was just that sometimes he forgot how much strain his body had been under, sometimes he forgot that even though his mind was healed, even though he had recovered, he was still exhausted, fatigued. It would take some time to build up his endurance again, and until that happened, he had to keep his movements more gentle.

Isabel was still waiting for him to finish the thought.

"It's nothing," he said dismissively. "I'll meet you at Michael's apartment in a few minutes."

"Alright," Isabel murmured. "Be careful."

"You, too," Alex replied.

* * *

"Hey. Woah. Michael… Michael, what's going on?" Maria demanded as Michael grabbed her arm and physically dragged her away from the magazine she was reading. The Crashdown only had a few patrons, and they were being served by the new waitress Mr. Parker had hired to cover the summer, leaving her free to do pretty much nothing during her shift.

But now, as Michael's fingers wrapped tightly around her arm, his eyes wide, darting back and forth, she couldn't stop her own rush of panic.

"Michael?"

He wasn't listening to her, though, and he didn't respond to her words. She followed him as he pulled her towards the back room. Liz chose that moment to leave the back room, however, and the three almost collided with each other.

Maria took the opportunity to pull her arm out of his grip and placed her hands firmly on her hips, glaring at her boyfriend. Liz saw this, and frowned, stepping backwards and clearly intending to leave the feuding couple alone.

Then Michael said, "You should come to, Parker."

Liz raised her eyebrows. "What?"

"Michael!" Maria said in a huff. "You can't just storm in here and drag me away from my magazine without any explanation. _What_ is going on?"

"Come on," Michael said, gesturing towards the two of them. "We can't discuss this here." And he lead them into the relative privacy of the diner's back room.

"Okay, spill," Maria directed once the door was closed firmly behind them.

But before Michael could say anything, his cell phone rang, and he pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID. A brief look of concern flashed through his features, and he flipped open the phone. "Isabel?"

Her voice sounded muffled and strained, and Maria couldn't make out the exact words. All she and Liz could do was listen to Michael's side of the conversation and try to figure out what was going on from that.

"What? What do you… you met one, too? You met _three_?... Mine was an old lady…yes… no… no… yes, I've got Maria and Liz here… you sent Alex to my apartment? But I'm not at my apartment… you can't just break into it! Well, okay, I know you _can_, but that's not… Did you call Max? Oh… is Mrs. Evans okay? Is she… no… okay… They're at Tess' place? Okay… Yes, let's meet there. I'll bring Maria and Liz… okay. Yeah, sure. No problem… See you soon."

"What happened to Mrs. Evans?" Liz asked the moment Michael hung up the phone.

"A Czechoslovakian showed up at her house," Michael answered grimly, "and one of them talked to me in the grocery store. Three of them approached Isabel…" He scratched his eyebrow absently. "The army is here."

Liz paled, but Maria said in a tone of forced ease, "Well, that's good, right? More people to protect you."

"More people to die," Michael corrected bitterly. "More reasons for Khivar to come after us."

"That's not true," Liz countered quietly. "Khivar will come after you whether you're alone or surrounded by the best trained army in the universe. You _know_ that."

Michael looked at her for a long moment, then shrugged and changed the subject. "Max and his mother are at Tess' apartment, and Alex is headed that way now. So is Isabel. So we're going to meet up there and…"

He stopped with a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. He wasn't really sure what they were going to do, that much was obvious. But it was also clear to Maria that he was just relieved everyone was accounted for, everyone was safe. It was why he had rushed in here, looking for her, and why he had brought Liz into the back room as well, despite his current dislike of her.

"It'll be okay," Maria whispered.

She knew he heard her, but he didn't react. There wasn't anything to say to her words. She didn't know if it would be okay, and she had no way of guaranteeing anything. It was just an empty promise, and with the war looming, it wasn't that reassuring.

* * *

By the time they all gathered, Max was torn between disbelief at the fact that the Royalist army was here and had managed to introduce themselves, and surprise at how calmly his mother seemed to be taking all of this. She was settled on a chair at the small table in the kitchen of Tess' apartment, her fingers curled around a cup of tea. She was watching all of them closely, carefully, but her face was accepting. Resigned.

Max turned away from her and looked at the others. Isabel looked rattled, her composure cracked, her eyes shadowed by fear. Alex stood next to her, and though there was some distance evident between the two, he still offered Isabel a reassuring smile on occasion. But this did little to cheer her up, and every time she looked at Alex, more worry filled her gaze.

Michael was pacing. His steps were loud and angry, and his body was shaking with pent-up frustration. He didn't let the silence linger for too long, instead demanding immediately, "So they're in town. All of them?"

"It would seem that way," Tess said softly, flopping down on the sofa and running a hand through her hair. She slanted a look at Max, and added, "Though we don't know for certain that the one who showed up at Max's house was a Royalist. If he's a skin…" She trailed off with a meaningful look for everyone.

"It seems more likely that he would be a Royalist, though," Maria argued, perched on the chair opposite Tess. "I mean… all the others are here."

"But he went to Max's house," Liz replied with a frown from where she was standing near the door.

Max looked at her, eyes widening in a silent question, and tried not to think about the fact that she was going to leave for boarding school. He had seen the look in her eyes when they spoke of it at the previous meeting, and knew, even if she did not, that her mind had been made then.

It hurt more than he cared to admit. But things were different now, and if Liz wanted a normal life, away from all of this, he wouldn't stop her. She wasn't his girlfriend, and sometimes he thought she wasn't even his friend.

Looking at her was a challenge. His mind kept going back to the fury in her expression when she had returned from Las Cruces, and his own bitter words, and their argument.

He forced himself to look over at Isabel instead as his sister asked, "So? What does that have to do with anything?"

Liz folded her arms over her chest, straightening slightly in response to Isabel's tone. With a touch of defiance in her voice, she answered, "All the others approached you while you were out. It is possible that they, themselves, were simply wandering about, wanting to see Roswell. That a few of them happened to accidentally stumble across you all and introduce themselves… that's different from what happened with the other one. He went to Max's house, he knocked on the door, he asked to be invited inside. He sought out Max, and he did it while Max was at home."

"And while Mrs. Evans was there," Alex added quietly, nodding his head towards the older woman.

Max accepted this with a thoughtful expression, looking over at his mother. He didn't like having this meeting in front of her, but until he was sure that it was safe for her to go back home, he didn't want to send her there by herself.

"He could still be a Royalist," Maria protested. To Max, she added, "What did you say his name was?"

"Ahab," Mrs. Evans supplied, speaking up before Max could answer.

Liz raised an eyebrow. "Like the captain from _Moby Dick_?" At Mrs. Evans' confirmatory nod, she said in a puzzled voice, "That's an odd name."

"If he's an alien, it's not like he would have known about the book…" Alex explained in a murmur. He took a couple steps away from Isabel and sat down on an armchair that must have been new as Max had never seen it before. Most of the furniture in the apartment had simply been moved over from the Valentis' house, but apparently Tess had also decided to buy a few new things.

The armchair was bright pink.

Some day, when this was all over, he was going to have to ask Tess about that.

"Whether or not he is a Royalist," Max said finally, forcing himself to focus on the conversation at hand, "he is powerful. I can sense it."

"And Liz has a point," Tess added. "He did seek out Max. Maybe he's more than just a Royalist." She chewed her lip, eyebrows furrowed, and then suggested warily, "Maybe he's someone important. A leader in the army, or a diplomat or noble of some kind."

"Like the one you met?" Michael asked with a snort. "The little boy with the lollipop?"

"Don't let appearance deceive you," Tess answered sternly. "He was hiding his power, but I could still sense some of it. The little boy was… is… strong."

"Well, this Ahab was _not_ hiding his powers," Max said gravely. "It wasn't almost as though he _wanted_ me to know just how much strength he has."

"And you just left him there?" Michael asked. "In your house."

"Getting my mother away from him seemed a bit more important," Max said coolly, responding with annoyance to the slight disapproval in Michael's tone. It hadn't been the ideal situation, and he would have preferred to just face the alien then and there, but he had his human parents to worry about, too.

He understood Michael's impatience, he really did. Constantly running from the threat had gotten them nowhere, and this war _was_ coming. But what did they think he would gain by confronting an unknown alien while his mother was present and most likely unable to defend herself?

Michael seemed to realize that, and he nodded a bit jerkily. He would have done the same for Maria.

"I don't like this," Isabel said, her voice interrupting Max's thoughts. "I don't like that they're all here. I don't like that they know where we live, that they went to find Max. I don't…" She stopped, shook her head, averted her gaze. "I don't like that we have to trust them."

"We don't have a choice," Max said wearily. He knew Isabel's fears and, as always, thoughts of Courtney lingered in the sudden stillness. But it didn't change the reality of the situation. "We have no hope of surviving if we do this on our own."

"We have no hope of surviving, period," Isabel snapped.

"Don't say that," Mrs. Evans said, rising abruptly to her feet. The chair was pushed back, scraping against the ground, and Max, along with everyone else, turned to look at her.

Her expression was pinched and sour and Max thought perhaps it was fearful, too. But what he noticed most was the anger in her eyes, and the determination. She could be brave and she could be courageous and she could be strong.

She didn't truly understand what they were up against.

"We're trusting people we don't even know, and that _didn't_ work out so well for us last time," Isabel said fiercely. Alex stiffened and shifted his weight from foot to foot, but Isabel did not spare him a glance. Eyes flashing dangerously, she pressed, "We have to face the reality of this. We can't win. We don't know _how_."

"That's why the Royalists are here," Max said. "That's why we're trusting them."

"It's why we trusted Courtney, too," Tess murmured. "And look how well that worked for us."

"Well, it's no wonder you're convinced you're going to die," Mrs. Evans said, shaking her head. "If this is the way you think about things… you've already given up."

"Maybe, if we can just… if we can stop Khivar from destroying Roswell, destroying Earth… that's something. That's winning. Even if we're not… around… to see it," Isabel offered.

"I won't stand here and listen to you talk about your deaths like this!" Mrs. Evans said furiously, glowering at Max and Isabel.

"I agree with Mrs. Evans on this," Maria added. "We have to stop thinking about this like we're going to lose. We have to stop acting like it is inevitable. It's not. We'll figure it out, we always do."

"No, Maria, we don't," Tess said, rising to her feet. "Not always. Not in time to save everyone. Kristalia told us that this was a war and we would bury people no matter what. She's right. There's no way around that. We're going to fight Khivar and his skins. It's going to be bloody. It just _is_."

* * *

He hadn't been particularly surprised when he discovered the king had left. He had hoped that Zan – no, Max – would recognize him, but he'd been informed that the Royal Four remembered nothing, so it was not a surprise. Just a disappointment.

He didn't bother going to find any of the others. Max would have warned them all by now, the humans as well as the other Royals. They would be suspicious of him, and he would have to address their fears eventually. But for right now, he had other matters to attend to.

His first task should have been tracking down Kristalia, but, of course, she made that particular chore easy enough by tracking him down instead. When she stepped out of the shadows of the street, a real smile in her eyes, he could not help but marvel at her skills.

"Lord Ahab," she greeted him.

"Kristi," he answered, using her informal nickname. "It is good to see you."

"And you," she answered. "The army is here."

It was part-statement, part-question. He nodded. "Yes. Some of my more…outgoing… soldiers have already contacted the Royals. I think their forwardness may have surprise our Majesties."

Kristalia laughed and shook her head. "They are suspicious of all newcomers. With all that has happened, they have a reason to be."

His face darkened. "I heard about Jared. I am so sorry."

She forced a smile that did not reach her sudden grief-filled eyes. "Thank you," she said. "I am, too."

"Well…" He pushed away his thoughts of Jared's death, and said, "Let's focus on the future, shall we? It is time we started planning for war."

* * *

Author's note: So, according to my plans for this story, the only three Royalists who will really matter are Kristalia, Ahab, and Patrick (occasionally with Lillian). The others will be there, of course, but they aren't important as individuals. So don't worry about remembering their identity.

For the story, Kristalia is by far the most significant, and we'll learn more about her history and background as the chapters continue.

Next Chapter: The Mess You Left Behind (part-one)


	11. The Mess You Left Behind part one

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: The next two chapters takes place over a couple weeks, so pay attention to the time changes at the start of each section.

This chapters mentions the fact that, on Antar, Courtney was the one to tell Rath that his brother was supporting Khivar and had turned against Zan, Ava, and Vilandra. This was mentioned in _Time After Time_ (chapter eighty-three) and was the main reason that Trevor hated Courtney.

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Eleven: The Mess You Left Behind (part-one)

"Can you believe it's already August?" Michael grumbled, running a hand through his sweaty hair and staring at the rocks floating in midair.

It was hard to know where to train. Despite the relative emptiness of the desert, Max had argued strongly against that, and with good reason. Over the summer, nature camps went hiking in the desert, families camped or picnicked away from the town, and teenagers drove to secluded areas to spend _quality time_ with their significant others. They couldn't take the risk that their practice sessions would be interrupted by people who weren't supposed to witness their gifts.

Which was why Max and Michael found themselves standing in the dim light of the pod chamber, surrounded by shattered rocks and fragments of stone.

Max shook his head and blinked a few times. The interior of the cave was stuffy and warm, the heat from the sun trapped within the rocks and nearly baking them. It was still better than being out in the open, but he was a little worried that sooner or later they might roast.

"Only a few weeks until school starts," Max said.

Michael groaned. "Don't remind me," he muttered.

"You're getting good at that," Max commented, gesturing towards the still suspended rocks. Michael's gift had always been the least controlled of the group, something Isabel always claimed was due to the fact that they were destructive forces, and therefore harder to control. Max sincerely doubted that – after all, he had to learn how to heal and Tess had to be able to control a person's mind, it wasn't like either of those were _easy_ – but he had never seen a reason to argue with her over the subject.

Isabel wasn't always the easiest person to make see reason.

Still, in the past few hours, Michael had obtained relatively good control of this gift, something Max had thought would take weeks. Even Michael had been surprised by the speed at which he figured out how to distinguish between freezing things and blowing them up.

There was no motivation quite like impending war.

Michael crossed his arms over his chest and said, "Doesn't really help considering I don't know how to unfreeze things, yet."

"I don't know. If I've got electricity being thrown at me, I'd be more interested in how to freeze it then unfreeze it," Max replied. He frowned and stared at the rocks for a bit, then slowly extended his hand and willed them to fly through the air and smash into the wall behind them.

They faltered a little, but did not move.

Max sent Michael a pointed look. Although telekinesis was not his main gift, he had certainly never had much of a problem with it. None of them had, although, for reasons Max didn't really understand, Tess called it a sloppy gift that should only be used as a last resort. But now he couldn't even move these shards of rock a little bit.

"You just need to concentrate harder to counteract my freezing thing," Michael snapped.

"Woah, chill," Max said, holding up a hand. "I'm just pointing out the strength of your… freezing thing. No need to get hostile."

Michael sent him a glare. "But what if you need to be able to… I don't know," he swung his arms out wide, "fight back when…"

But his words were cut off as the rocks suddenly jerked away from his hands and went spinning wildly into the wall. Max instinctively ducked and conjured up a force-field shield, and even Michael seemed stunned by what he had just done. Te rocks slammed into the wall and shattered into even smaller fragments, falling to the ground.

There was a moment of silence as Max lowered the shield and Michael looked around nervously.

"Okay," Max said. "That was…"

"Yeah," Michael agreed.

Again, a tense silence.

"So, are you okay that Parker is going to boarding school?"

Max whirled around and stared at Michael with wide eyes, having not expected that question. His mouth dropped open, and it took him a moment to collect his thoughts. Unwilling to answer right away, unsure if he wanted to answer at all, he asked, "Why?"

Michael shrugged. "Just curious."

Max shrugged and averted his eyes. "At least she'll be safe," he said under his breath.

"Yeah," Michael agreed sourly. "One less person to get killed."

Max leaned back against the cave wall and closed his eyes for a brief moment. He didn't know how to explain his conflicting feelings to Michael. He didn't really know how to explain them to himself. He was truly, completely, desperately in love with Liz. He wanted to be with her, and he also wanted her to stay far, far away from him for this year, because at least them she would be safe. Every time he saw her, he was filled with a mixture of love and fear and…

Fury. Occasionally, he thought he would never be able to forgive her for the way she had acted when Alex had been in a coma, for her complete disregard of everyone and everything else.

"What does Maria think?" Max asked finally.

Michael scratched his eyebrow and said, "I think she's torn between wanting her best friend to stay here and wanting her best friend to be happy."

The implication of that statement was clear – Liz wasn't happy in Roswell.

"You talk to her?"

Max raised an eyebrow. "Liz? Not outside of the group meetings, no."

Michael didn't say anything for a long minute, and Max thought about turning back to their training. But then Michael cleared his throat and asked in a would-be-casual tone, "You talk to Isabel much?"

Again, Max was caught off guard by the change in topic. He frowned, then said a little uneasily, "Some. About our parents, mostly. Why?"

"I think that… that she thinks that we're…" Michael stopped, licked his lips, started again, "She thinks were not wanting to… that we don't…"

"What?" Max pushed, frustrated. "Spit it out."

Michael glared, but said succinctly, "Tess thinks that Isabel isn't doing well. And that we're not helping."

"Tess thinks that?" Max questioned, chewing his lip worried. "She told you?"

"Kind of," Michael answered.

Max considered this carefully. Not only was Tess usually right about this sort of thing – no doubt she would claim that it was because boys were just naturally oblivious to everything and girls weren't – but the fact that she had actually bothered to mention it instead of deciding that it really wasn't her problem meant that she was actually worried about Isabel. And all the anger that Max had felt towards Isabel over the past couple months, all the frustration for the part she played in Courtney's betrayal, paled in comparison to the fact that she might be hurting badly enough for Tess to be worried.

If he was honest with himself, part – no, _most_ – of his anger towards Liz was because of the way she had so callously turned on Isabel, both implicitly and explicitly blaming her for this. Nobody hurt his sister and got away with it.

Of course, there was the fact that Liz had blamed the rest of them, too...

And yet, how could he over look the fact that not only had Isabel's insecurities sent Alex on a mission that had nearly gotten him killed and _had_ gotten Valenti killed, but then she had also lied about it to them? Granted, at the time that she had been lying, they hadn't known that Courtney had been after the Book and Alex was in the coma because of that, but still…

"Apparently Isabel thinks I only care about Maria and the war," Michael added, his tone hard. "And I don't know… I guess she thinks you don't care about anything but the war."

Max winced inwardly at the blatant absence of Liz's name in that statement.

"You _have_ been spending a lot of time with Maria," Max said. "You guys are really… serious."

For a brief moment, a goofy smile passed over Michael's face. "Yeah, I think we are," he said.

Once upon a time, Max would have felt the same way about Liz. And maybe he still did. When he actually allowed himself to think about the future past the war, it was with her. It was always with her, he just couldn't admit that to himself, let alone to her.

But as his mind drifted towards the future, it landed on the one thing he had been refusing to think about, even though he should have. The one problem in Liz's plan.

It seemed Michael was thinking of it, too.

"Didn't Liz tell you that the future version of me told her not to leave Roswell? That when she went to boarding school, Khivar killed her?"

And Max could only mutter, "Yes," and look away.

They didn't talk about Liz or Isabel anymore, and the rest of the training passed quickly, and without much other excitement. At the end of the training session, they emerged against into the harsh light of the mid-afternoon desert sun and made their way slowly towards Max's car.

And then stopped.

There was a man standing there, leaning idly against the car. He looked over at them as they hesitated, his brown eyes focusing on them, absorbing every detail. He was older, perhaps in his forties, and was quite handsome.

And Max was hit with the same overwhelming feeling of power that had filled his own house the day before, when his mother opened the door and allowed the strange alien inside.

He stepped forward. "You're Ahab," he said bluntly.

"I am," Ahab agreed. "Your Majesty. General Rath." His eyes softened around the edges, and he smiled. "It is an honor and a pleasure to see you both again."

Max sent Michael an uneasy glance.

Ahab extended his hand, and Michael shook it first, tension obvious in the lines of his body. Max followed quickly, and the moment his skin touched Ahab's fingers, he felt something shift in his mind, and it was as thought he was staring both at the present alien and remembering something from long ago.

The desert faded a bit, suddenly out-of-focus, and then there was a battle-field, and soldiers dying everywhere, and the smell of ash and blood and decaying bodies and…

It was as though a flick switched in his brain, and suddenly Max remembered. Not much, but enough.

He withdrew his hand quickly. "I thought you were dead. In the final attack, when Khivar stormed the castle… you were protecting us. I saw the ceiling collapse on you, I saw…" He trailed off, unsure. He remembered watching the room cave in, remembered the flames leaping towards the sky and the feeling of horror, but…

But he hadn't stayed around long enough to discover if there were any survivors. He had faced Khivar, and within the hour, he had been dead.

"You survived," he said bluntly.

Ahab nodded. "I did."

"How?"

Ahab looked around. "Can we go some place less open, your Majesty?"

Max nodded. "How did you get here?"

Ahab turned and gestured towards another car, half-hidden behind an outcropping of rocks and drooping desert shrubs. "I can follow you back to your home, your Majesty. Or to General Rath's home, if you would prefer?"

Max thought of his parents, both of whom were home, and gave Michael a questioning glance. The hybrid General picked up on this right away, and said, "Let's go to my apartment. I'll call Isabel and Tess on the way."

* * *

"As you remember, the ceiling caved in. The room was in flames, and several of us were dead. We had gathered there to defend the four of you, Your Majesty, but it was already too late. General Rath had died, and Queen Ava had been captured by Nicolas. We didn't know that at the time, and we thought…" Ahab trailed off, struggling to find words for the feelings that had besieged them all when they realized that they had lost.

"I don't understand," Isabel cut in. "What is he talking about?"

"Ahab was one of the leaders of my army," Max explained, rubbing his eyes wearily. He leaned forward in his seat on the sofa and continued, "When Khivar entered the palace, he tried to gather enough forces to protect us. It was too late, though. Khivar trapped him and several of his men in one of the rooms in the palace and killed them all." He turned to Ahab with a critical stare. "Well, not _all_, it would seem."

"I lost consciousness when the ceiling fell. A few of my soldiers survived – not many, though – and when they realized that I was still alive, they carried me out of the room. Khivar had killed all four of you by the time we made it out, so they escaped with me. We fled to a nearby Royalist stronghold and hid there. When I awoke, I was badly injured. It took me years to heal enough to regain use of my legs and my powers."

"Years?" Tess repeated quietly, frowning.

Ahab swallowed uneasily and looked away. It was hard to talk about those years. The despair that had fallen over him at the fact that he had failed in his mission, the possibility that he might never be able to walk again… The burns from the fire Khivar had conjured had nearly killed him, and had caused lasting damage to his nervous system far beyond what a normal fire could do.

It had also taken him a long time to face the obvious conclusion that the lure of getting them all into the room, the carefully-laid trap… it had been meant for _him_. He was the reason all of his soldiers had died. He was the one Khivar had been targeting with that ingenious attack.

He had been important enough if Zan's government for Khivar to take special pains to have him killed. And the skin king had nearly succeeded.

"Okay, I'm still missing something here," Tess said coolly, suspiciously. "Who are you?"

"Ahab was Rath's Second-In-Command," Max answered before the Royalist could say anything.

Three sets of eyebrows raised, and then Michael asked, "You remember that?"

"It came to me when I shook his hand in the desert," Max answered. He didn't wait for the other three to say anything, though, and instead turned to Ahab and demanded, "Is the entire army here?"

"Yes."

Michael inhaled sharply and began pacing. Isabel sank onto a nearby chair with a worried expression on her pale features. Max's lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes narrowed in apprehension.

But Tess tilted her chin up and asked in a clipped tone, "What aren't you telling us?"

Ahab turned his brown towards her and asked softly, gently, "What do you mean, your Majesty?"

"You're hiding something," Tess answered. "I can feel it." Turning to Max, she added, "He's not telling us the whole truth. I don't know what it is, but he's lying about something."

"I'm not…"

"You are," Isabel interrupted. "If Tess says you are lying about something, then you are lying."

Ahab stared at Tess for a long time, then turned his attention to Isabel. "Your faith in her powers is impressive."

"They're _gifts_," Isabel answered. "And answer the question. What aren't you telling us?"

Ahab ran his fingers through his hair and rose to his feet with an inhumanly graceful movement. This was not a conversation he particularly wanted to have, but he knew it could not be avoided. Not after everything he had learned from Kristalia about the death of Jim Valenti. Still…

He was on their side. He was a Royalist. And he had to make them understand that what happened in the past was not relevant to the present.

"I used to support the faction of rebel skins that wanted General Rath on the throne," Ahab said.

The reaction he got was not entirely unexpected, though the vicious force behind it did catch him somewhat by surprise. He was lifted off his feet by an incredible pressure that slammed into his chest, and he went careening through the air until he crashed into the far wall. His head snapped back, and for a moment, he nearly lost consciousness.

But he forced himself to focus, and looked up at the Royal Four.

He had expected the attack to come from the Queen. After all, the Sheriff had been her father, and Kristalia had informed him that she was the most hurt by his death. But, to his surprise, it was the Princess who had her hand extended in front of her, electricity crackling along her fingertips, her eyes nearly black with fury.

"Isabel!" Michael and Max protested in unison.

Tess said nothing. She didn't even look disturbed by Isabel's actions. Her expression was carefully neutral, but Ahab thought he saw something akin to revenge glimmering in her blue eyes.

He climbed warily to his feet. "I haven't supported them in decades," he said, holding his hands out in surrender. "Please, Princess, you have to understand… I stopped supporting them before the war even started in earnest. I never… Kristi told me about what happened, and I would never have…"

"How could you even think of supporting them? How could you want to side with people like Courtney?" Isabel spat.

"It was when I first was promoted to General Rath's Second," Ahab explained. "He was a brilliant commander and with the war coming…" Giving Max an apologetic look, the Royalist admitted reluctantly, "You had never fought a war, your Majesty, and you weren't a soldier. And it was clear that Khivar wasn't going to stop until he had your throne. But you couldn't get the support you needed to stop him and I believed – wrongly, of course – that perhaps General Rath could. At the very least, I thought he could stop some of the more pacifist skins from supporting Khivar. Later, still before the war started, I changed my thoughts and… distanced… myself from the faction. I never met the Lady Courtney, she joined the faction after I had already left, and so I only knew her as a friend of General Rath's and a Lady of the Court."

"What made you change your mind?" Tess asked.

Ahab looked again at Isabel before answering. She had lowered her arm halfway, and the electricity was gone. But the fury was still there, and he was somewhat apprehensive of what she could – and probably would – do if she didn't like his answer.

He sighed. He didn't want to give this answer, either. Kristi had filled him in on too many of the details of the past year to believe that reminding the General of this one failure would _not_ cause harm.

But Max prompted coolly, "Well?" and he knew he had to give an explanation.

"My support of the General was based mostly on the notion that he could win support of some of the skins, take them away from Khivar. But… there were rumors that he was not able to keep even the support of his brother. And if you could not win the support of your flesh and blood, General…" He broke off and could not quite meet Michael's gaze.

"You decided I wouldn't be fit to rule," Michael growled.

Ahab let out a tense breath. "Something like that."

Michael sat down hard, and clenched his hands angrily into fists, and Ahab thought of the death of the General's brother and tried to come up with something to say, something to fill the silence. But there was nothing.

Finally, he murmured, "There wasn't proof, but it was obvious. The rumors… there were too many correct details in them… little things… I knew they had to be true. I know you eventually found all the proof and were forced to see reason, although I don't know who it was that told you…"

"Courtney," Michael spat.

Ahab raised an eyebrow.

"I remember that," Michael said slowly, as though he was piecing everything together right at that very moment, finding the answers. "She was the one who compiled all the proof, who finally convinced me that my own brother was a traitor, that he was helping Khivar with a plan to kill Zan, Ava, Vilandra, and most of their advisors, and in return Khivar was going to spare my life."

"Ah…" Ahab murmured. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. It was after…"

"After you had switched sides," Max interrupted. "Yes, you mentioned that. But I still don't quite get why you were so eager to abandon your support of Michael's claim to the throne."

"If Rath could not stop Khivar by taking away his support, then there would undoubtedly be a war. Having the king either abdicate or be forcibly replaced by his General… I thought it would dishearten your followers, your Majesty. You may not remember what it was like, but the planet was in despair. The civil war… we all saw it coming and we knew it was inevitable and we didn't have a reason to believe that the planet would survive it. People needed hope, they needed someone to believe in. You were that hope, and to take it from them… it would have most certainly condemned us to defeat."

Isabel dropped her arm all the way and looked over at Max. Max looked at Michael. Michael shrugged, hesitation written plainly on his face.

"Alright," Max said finally. "You can go. We need to… we need to think about this. We'll talk to you… all of you… later."

Ahab accepted the dismissal and excused himself from the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

The people still needed something to believe in, and he could only hope that the Royal Four fulfilled that need. Otherwise they were all lost.

* * *

It was sunset nearly four days later, and still the hybrids still had not called the Royalists for a meeting. Kristalia had expressed her concerns about this more than once, but Max had ignored it, although he knew if he didn't do something soon, she would probably just show up at his house with everyone else behind her, and he would be forced to deal with them then.

Michael had told Maria about Ahab, and Isabel had told Alex, and Maria and Alex had told Liz. And all three humans were annoyed at being left out of the loop, not invited to the meeting with Ahab. But even that wasn't the most pressing issue at the moment.

The most pressing issue was something none of them were aware of. It had to do with the reporter currently breaking into Alex's house and looking through his room.

He found nothing out of the ordinary. It was a normal teenager's room, complete with science fiction novels, a handful of books on computer programming, and a secret stash of Snickers bars in one of the desk drawers. But nothing to suggest that there was anything unusual about this boy. Nothing to use as evidence in any kind of story.

David SinClair let himself out of the empty house and wondered vaguely to himself if all his instincts were wrong, if it was really time to leave. He had extended his stay far too long, already surpassing the deadline he had given himself. It really was time to give up.

What was there to find?

He didn't see the unmarked black sedan parked across the street, didn't see the FBI agent watching him carefully. And perhaps if he had, he would have realized the story was much bigger than he originally believed.

* * *

A week had passed since the meeting with Ahab, and Tess couldn't get his words out of her mind. Nor could she forget the hatred and anger in Isabel's eyes, and again, some part of her worried for the hybrid Princess. She and Isabel might not be on the best terms right now, but they were still family, and nothing could ever change that.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she did not notice as she walked directly into someone else on the street. She jumped back in surprise, a flush creeping up her cheeks, and struggled to hold onto both her purse and her dignity.

"Tess."

Her gaze snapped up to the face of the person she had bumped into, and her heart momentarily stopped beating. "Ms. DeLuca," she said softly.

"It's really good to see you, and please, call me Amy," Amy DeLuca answered with a friendly smile. The pain in her eyes was pronounced and raw, and Tess couldn't help but look away, unable to stare at the reflection of her own feelings.

"It's nice to see you, too," the blonde teenager murmured.

"I heard you were in San Francisco with Kyle," Amy continued.

Tess nodded and answered vaguely, "Yes, for a bit. I just got back a little over a week ago."

"How is Kyle?"

Tess opened her mouth, intent on lying and replying that Kyle was fine, but as she looked up at Amy again, the words caught in her throat, and she surprised herself by admitting, "Not good."

Amy let out a long breath. "Yeah. And… how are you?"

For some reason, Tess couldn't stop the tears from pricking at her eyes. It had been a while since she had cried, weeks, really, and yet now the tears were coming, and she was apparently unable to do anything about it. Amy's words had gotten under her skin, the simple, caring question causing her more pain that she would have liked to admit.

She wiped at her eyes hastily with the back of her hand. "I've been better," she answered hoarsely. Then she thought back to the week of the funeral, and to the day she had found out that it was Courtney who had killed Jim, and she answered honestly, "I've been worse, too."

"You know…" Amy began, her voice wavering slightly, "I loved him."

Tess blinked several times and then answered honestly, "I know."

"I know you and Maria didn't really… hang with the same types of people. I know you weren't friends with her, and Kyle wasn't either, but… But I know you and Kyle both made at least some kind of effort to… to get along with her and me. Because of… because of Jim."

Tess nodded. She was honest enough with herself to admit that neither she nor Kyle had made much of an effort – and neither had Maria – but they had made _some_. Enough, really, to show that all three of them cared about their respective parent, even if they often absolutely despised each other.

"I can't imagine how hard this is for you, with Kyle in a different city and Jim gone," Amy continued. "But I just want you to know that… you're not alone. I loved Jim, and I… I'm here. If you ever need anything. If Kyle ever needs anything."

Tess wiped her eyes again, and murmured, "Thank you."

The tears wouldn't stop falling.

* * *

The light tap at the window caught Liz's attention, and she looked up in surprise. Setting aside her book, she moved quickly across the room and pulled away the window curtain, revealing Max. He was standing on the other side of the window, just a thin sheet of glass separating him, and for a moment, her heart started hammering in her chest.

She forced herself to take a calm breath, and pulled the window open. Max climbed into her room quickly, his eyes taking everything in with a single glance, and Liz was reminded of all the times that it had been perfectly normal for him to visit her this way.

Back when they had been dating.

"Is everything alright?" she asked after a long moment of silence.

Max looked at her, then stepped away and shook his head. He walked over to the chair in front of her desk and sat down, his expression unreadable.

"Max?" she pressed, a knot of fear growing in her stomach.

"You're going to boarding school," Max said.

Liz nodded slowly. She had not made any sort of official announcement yet, but she had already sent in the forms and told Maria and Alex that she was nearly positive that she was leaving. Her parents were ecstatic, and some small part of her was also ready to get out of Roswell, to get away from all of this.

To find normal again.

But the fact that Max was standing in front of her, asking her about this, made her pause. Made her wonder. Was he going to tell her that he didn't want her to go? And was that enough? Could she put her own needs aside for him – for the four hybrids – again? Did she want to?

"Haven't you tried that before?" Max asked. "Didn't it not work out well last time?"

Liz raised her eyebrows. "You remembered what I told you about Future Michael's warning," she said bluntly, a little surprised. She hadn't expected him to completely forget, but he hadn't said anything about it in a while, and it had been two weeks since she told him she was thinking of leaving and…

"It's a little hard to forget you telling me that my sister is going to turn evil," Max answered shortly.

Liz blinked a few times, and felt a strange urge to cry. She knew it was completely unfounded, she had no reason to be upset that Max chose to focus on that part of Michael's warning and not her own death. Of course he would remember that his sister was going to turn against him. Of course he would remember that he was going to lose her to Khivar.

But still… it was her choice to go to boarding school that had resulted in her death and the beginning of the end, and some part of her still wanted him to remember _that_. To be as horrified now as he was when she first told him, when he had replied that he couldn't do this without her.

Max ran his hand over the smooth surface of the desk, not meeting her gaze. "If you leave, he might kill you."

"Khivar?" Liz murmured, asking for a clarification that was entirely unnecessary. She knew who Max was talking about, she remembered Future Michael's words.

"Yes," Max snapped. "Khivar." He seemed to take it as a personal insult that he was forced to say the name, and his lips curled into a grimace. But when he finally looked at her again, she saw the shadow of fear passing through his gaze.

"The future was changed," Liz argued. "We changed it, we changed it a lot. Sydney…" She stopped abruptly, cutting off that line of thought as Max's stiffened and looked away again. The name of the young girl hung in the air between them, a reminder of yet another person Max had been unable to save.

They had to trust modern medicine on this one, but Liz couldn't help but wonder how much time Sydney had left. Maybe there would be a way to save her in the future. Science was making progress every day, and they just had to believe.

Either way, they had changed the future by having Max _not_ attempt to heal the little girl.

"And everything that happened with… with Courtney," Liz pressed on, trying to keep the loathing out of her voice as she uttered that hated name, "and with Trevor and Nasedo… that was all different. The future changed, and now Khivar is on Earth and he's coming for you. I'm not any safer here, Max."

And she wasn't any happier here, either.

"Are you willing to bet your life on that?" Max demanded.

And Liz answered with astonishing speed and even more astonishing honesty, "Yes."

The Sheriff was dead. He had bet his life on the four hybrids being able to protect him, and he had lost. He was dead, gone, and all because he had stayed in Roswell, stayed with his daughter and her alien family. Liz wasn't honestly convinced that Khivar wouldn't come after her, but with the Sheriff's death, she had come to the painful realization that she wasn't safe here, either.

It was no longer a question of where she was safe. She hadn't been safe all along, ever since the shooting in the diner and the moment Max had healed her, and she had known that, even if she hadn't fully accepted it.

She couldn't hide from the truth now, though. The Sheriff was proof of that.

"It's isn't a matter of where I'll be safe, Max," she said slowly. "It's a question of where I'll be happy."

"And that isn't in Roswell?" Max demanded.

She shrugged. "This is a great opportunity for me." She paused, then said quietly, "I'd stay if you thought I could help."

He looked at her again, eyebrows raised.

"If you thought I had anything to offer…" She trailed off, suddenly unsure. She was trying, one last opportunity to find out of Max wanted her to stay, if she could actually do anything productive for the group. But she'd been on the outside for the past couple months, and she knew that. Somehow, it didn't even feel like she was part of the group anymore, and if there was nothing she could do to help them…

But Max didn't answer. He didn't tell her that he needed her, he didn't tell her that he loved her, he didn't tell her that they could work through this. Because none of that was true anymore.

Well, he might still love her. But he didn't need her, and they couldn't work through this.

"I want to be happy, Max," she said finally. "And I think I can do that at boarding school."

"But if Khivar comes for you…" Max started.

Liz interrupted him, "We don't know if he'll come after me if I leave. We do know that he'll come after you, though. No matter what. Which means if I stay, he will come after me, too." She chewed her lip, blinked a few times. "Max, this is a war, and I don't want to leave you alone to fight it. If you think I can help, I'll stay. But I just… lately it seems like I've mostly just been in the way."

"Fine," Max said with a shrug, rising to his feet. "Do what you want."

He didn't counter her previous statement, didn't tell her that she could help in any way, that she actually had something to offer to the group. Instead, he simply pushed past her and moved to the window again, and she watched him go without saying a word.

She would have stayed if they needed her. But it was becoming blatantly apparent that they didn't.

* * *

It had been ten days since the meeting with Ahab, and the Royalists were growing impatient. And Max knew he was in denial if he thought he could hold them off any longer, but he still wasn't sure what to think of Ahab and some part of him just didn't want to deal with it.

How was he supposed to know who to trust? How was he supposed to know who to believe?

He stared at the rocks suspending in midair in front of him. They were training again, and Michael had frozen the stones and asked Max to see if he could telekinetically move them. So far, his attempts had failed, just like they had every other time he had tried. Frustration was building up inside of him, it was a fruitless exercise. He didn't know why he was wasting time on it.

"Just concentrate all your energy on the rocks," Michael coached.

"I'm trying," Max ground out. This was ridiculous. Granted, he and Michael had been helping each other quite a bit in the past ten days, and now Michael could almost always not only freeze any object thrown at him, but he could unfreeze them as well. And Max's force-fields were getting stronger, able to withstand all of Michael's attacks.

But telekinetically moving anything that Michael had frozen was still impossible, and even if Michael kept spouting advice at him (advice, he thought someone ironically, that he himself had given to Michael when helping him unfreeze objects), it didn't seem to do any good.

"Try harder," Michael said with no sympathy or compassion in his voice.

"You do it, then," Max snapped irritably, gesturing towards the rocks.

Michael rolled his eyes, but Max barely noticed. His mind went back to Ahab. Could he trust someone who had worked for the same faction as Courtney? Even if he said that he had switched sides before the blonde rebel skin had joined? Larek and Kristalia had both told him he needed to accept help from the rebel skins, and Ahab claimed to be a Royalist now, anyway, but…

But he thought of Courtney and could not stop the automatic distrust that arose anytime someone was even vaguely and remotely connected to her.

He didn't know what to think of his conversation with Liz. It had been clear that she was waiting for him to tell her that he wanted her to stay, that she was needed. But he _couldn't_ tell her that. He wanted her to be safe, and she was right that she wasn't safe here. So it really wasn't an issue of safety.

But he didn't know if he needed her.

Well, that wasn't true. He knew he needed her. He just didn't know if his need for her outweighed his anger at what she had done and said. He didn't know if the love he felt for her could outweigh the fury. He didn't know if she would be a help or a hindrance, if he would find strength in her, or simply be distracted by his own memories every time she was near.

He also hadn't talked to Isabel about… well, anything. Was their relationship falling apart? Was Tess right that his sister wasn't doing well? And how was he supposed to look at her, to support her and comfort her, without thinking of everything she had done, everything she had lied about? How was he supposed to forgive her when he couldn't even forgive himself?

And all of these problems – his suspicion of Ahab, his bewilderment and frustration about Liz, his anger and hurt at Isabel – and so many other problems, too… they could all be traced back to Courtney.

Tess' haunted expression when she spoke of Jim, the look of inhuman rage in Isabel's eyes when Ahab had mentioned the rebel skins… He had known for a while now that Tess was slipping away from them, but it hadn't been until Isabel had thrown Ahab against the wall of Michael's apartment that he realized he might be losing Isabel.

And he had no idea how to fix that. He had no idea how to fix any of it.

He thought of Jim, of his casket being lowered into a grave…

A wrath built up inside of him, starting in the pit of his stomach and rising slowly, steadily, through his body. It flooded his veins and turned his vision red, so that he was seeing everything through a shimmering haze of fire and fury. His heart started racing and his breath came quickly and for a moment, Courtney's face floated in front of his eyes. And then, quite suddenly and without warning, the emotions burst from him, exploding out of his hands and slamming into the rocks before him.

They broke free of Michael's power and hurtled through the cave of the pod chamber, hitting the far wall and shattering into pieces so small they might have been grains of sand.

* * *

Next Chapter: The Mess You Left Behind (part-two)

Due: Sun 10/31


	12. The Mess You Left Behind part two

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: Wow... I just completely disappeared for a while, didn't I? well, in a fit of guilt, I sat down and wrote a few chapters. So I have two chapters to post today, and I am already done with the one that I will post next Sunday, and hopefully that means I will be back on track. Sorry for the long delay...

* * *

Chapter Twelve: The Mess You Left Behind (part-two)

"You're Ahab."

"I am."

Maria frowned as she regarded the alien coolly. She was still more than a little annoyed at Michael for not bringing her to the last meeting, and had insisted on coming to this one. But even being here, surrounded by Royalists… even being present for the first meeting between the four hybrids and the full Royalist army… even being included now, didn't make up for missing out on the previous conversation.

She knew what had happened at that meeting, and she had wanted a chance to add her own opinion about Ahab's supposed loyalties.

She placed her hands on her hips and said in a dangerously low tone, "You try anything like Coutney did, and I don't care how powerful Max says you are, I'll kill you myself."

A thin smile appeared on Ahab's face. "Duly noted."

"Do you think this is funny?" Maria snapped, irritated by the smile.

Ahab shook his head and chuckled slightly. "No. I just… understand why the General is so enamored of you."

Maria opened her mouth to say something, and then stopped. She'd have to assume Ahab was complimenting her, because it certainly didn't sound like an insult. She was still suspicious, but she allowed herself a moment of pleasure at the fact that even a Royalist alien who had only been in Roswell for a couple weeks could tell that Michael really liked her.

Although, she reflected after a moment, did that mean the skins could tell it, too?

She pushed that thought away immediately. Khivar already knew – Nicolas or someone else would have told him – so there was no point in pretending it wasn't true. She and Michael were… well, maybe not in love, but certainly very, very close.

And if anyone wanted to try to use her to get to him, she would be more than willing to fight back.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Alex, who looked briefly at Ahab and then asked, "Have you ever read _Moby Dick_?"

"Um… no," Ahab answered. "Is it a book?"

Alex nodded and looked at Maria with a shrug. "He seems okay. As long as his obsession with whales doesn't condemn us all to death by drowning."

Ahab frowned in utter bewilderment, and turned to Max, who was standing nearby. "I'm afraid I don't understand the reference, your Majesty."

"Don't worry about it," Max answered with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Where's Liz?" Maria demanded, looking around. Tess was sitting on the sofa opposite them, alternating between looking bored and eyeing every with distrust. Michael was pacing, his usual activity whenever he was nervous. Isabel was sitting next to Alex, one hand resting on his arm, something that Maria had noticed they had been doing a lot lately. They were clearly working through their issues.

She wasn't really sure how she felt about that.

"I don't know if she is coming," Max answered with a shrug. "I told her about the meeting, but didn't really see a reason for her to join us."

"What?" Maria snapped angrily.

"She's part of the group, Max," Alex muttered wearily. He looked as though he really did not want to get dragged into this argument, but some part of him also seemed resigned to that inevitability. He pulled away from Isabel and came to Maria's side, his expression tired, but stony.

"She's leaving," Max answered, his tone clipped and hard. "She won't be part of this group in a couple weeks."

"You can't just kick her out because you broke up with her!" Maria retorted, flushed. As far as she was concerned, this was still Max's fault. He was the one who wanted to be careful and cautious, who cared more about protecting himself and the other hybrids than he did about Alex. He was the one who had ignored all of Liz's protests, all of Liz's suspicions.

And Liz had been right.

"I didn't kick her out," Max answered, face flushed. "It is her choice to leave, Maria. I didn't make her send in those forms."

"Yeah, you did," Maria answered fiercely.

"Maria, shut up," Tess said, speaking up from where she was sitting. "Nobody cares."

Maria whirled to face her. "Just because you're bitter that you can't spend more time in sunny San Francisco with Kyle doesn't mean you can…"

"Leave Kyle out of this," Tess interrupted, eyes narrowing. "And get it through your thick skull that not everything is Max's fault. Or Isabel's, or mine. Max told Liz about the meeting, and whether or not she comes is her choice. If you're unhappy that Liz isn't here, why don't you take that up with the person who is actually to blame for it: _Liz_."

The rest of the conversation was put on hold by the sound of a knock at the door, and then Kristalia appeared, followed shortly by Lillian and Patrick.

"The others are on their way," Kristalia said, addressing Max. "We did not want to come all at once. It might be a little suspicious, and I know you are still concerned about the reporters."

"They've stopped bothering me," Alex answered.

"Doesn't mean they're not still out there, biding their time," Michael replied bluntly, eyes darting around. "They could still be watching, even as we speak."

"Paranoid much?" Tess mocked.

He turned to face her. "Am I wrong?"

She considered that for a moment, then admitted somewhat reluctantly, "Probably not."

"Whether or not we are being watched, our best bet is to continue to act natural," Max said firmly. "Make sure that nobody finds anything."

"Easier said than done," Isabel murmured.

The door opened again, and this time five people entered. One was an elderly lady, two were middle-aged men dressed in business suits, one was a teenage girl who looked to be perhaps thirteen, and one was a young boy. They all stopped upon seeing Max, eyes opening wide.

"Your Majesty," the teenage girl said, awe in her voice.

"Come in," Ahab spoke up as Max looked helplessly over at Michael for advice on what to say, how to greet these people they did not remember. "Unless you are opposed to this, your Majesty, we will wait to do introductions until the others are here."

Max shrugged and waved his hand, signaling his consent.

Maria watched with some interest as the five instantly obeyed the order, responding to Ahab without question. They closed the door firmly behind them and moved closer to others, still standing stiffly, almost as though at attention.

"How many of you are there?" Maria asked curiously.

It was Kristalia who answered. "On Earth? There are forty-nine." She hesitated, then added grimly, "Jared would have been the fiftieth."

Maria accepted this in silence. She had given very little thought to the deceased Royalist in the past couple months, although it was obvious from Kristalia's expression that he was missed. She thought perhaps she should have grieved more – he was on their side, after all, and had died fighting for them – but in the aftermath of Courtney, it was hard to care about anyone except Alex.

And the Sheriff, of course, but it was far too late to do him any good.

Still, deaths should be remembered. Maria made a mental note to herself to start paying more attention to the others who died, the ones she didn't know very well. She should still remember their allies, even after they were gone.

"Only forty-nine?" Alex asked. "I expected an army to be… bigger."

"There are a few hundred still on Antar," Ahab explained. "Our work there is more extensive. Most of the war has taken place there, you know. Most of the fighting…" He trailed off, then added, "It is unlikely Khivar will bring many skins to Earth. Perhaps sixty at the most. He will need to leave his army behind to fight on Antar as well, or else his throne might not still be there when he returns."

"He's not going to return," Max said angrily. "We're going to stop him here."

There was another knock at the door, and seven people entered. Maria turned to study them, but was stopped by Michael's appearance at her side. She turned towards him, smiling slightly, and he said in a low voice, "Don't stand so close to Ahab."

She frowned, and looked at the Royalist next to her. She didn't want Michael to spend all his energy worrying about her protection, but she didn't argue with him on this one. Instead, she simply moved away, following him back to the other side of the room.

Max had made the decision to trust Ahab, at least for now, but it was clear that Michael was having doubts. She glanced over her shoulder and noticed that the Royalist in question was staring at her with that same expression of amusement on his features. When he caught her gaze, he simply tilted his chin up, almost a challenge.

Next to her, Michael rested a protective arm on her shoulder and shot a glare at Ahab, one that clearly told him to stay away from Maria.

To Alex, Maria said, "I wish Liz was here."

"Call her and tell her to get over here," Tess suggested. "Or accept the fact that your best friend has finally come to her senses and decided to get out of Roswell before this mess kills her."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Maria snapped.

Tess frowned. "It's a war, Maria. People die. I know _exactly_ what I'm talking about."

"Liz would never run away from something just because it was dangerous," Maria argued.

Tess rolled her eyes. "Well, then she is as stupid as she is annoying." The blonde hybrid rose to her feet and folded her arms over her chest. "And here I was thinking that she was actually being smart. For once."

"Would you both cut it out?" Michael said wearily, rubbing the back of his head absently. "You're not helping."

Tess tilted her chin up and said coolly, "I wasn't really trying to help."

"Of course not," Isabel spoke up. "You'd rather be in San Francisco watching movies with Kyle and his friends, pretending like you don't have a care in the world."

Tess rounded on her, eyes flashing, but then paused. "Well… yeah. Wouldn't we _all_ rather be doing that?"

There was another knock at the door.

"How is everyone going to fit in this apartment?" Isabel asked, watching the several new aliens who entered.

"It's big enough," Tess replied. "We'll just all be a little uncomfortable."

"Is anyone else suddenly considering the idea that if all these supposed-Royalists are lying, we might have invited the enemy into Michael's apartment where we have limited space and we're entirely outnumbered?" Alex asked.

Kristalia looked at him with an amused expression. "A little late to be thinking of that, isn't it?"

"We're not the enemy," one of the Royalists – a young boy with a high-pitched, squeaky voice and eyes that seemed far too old and weary for his face – said sharply. "We are here to protect the King, the Queen, the General, and the Princess. And to fight the usurper Khivar."

"And you chose the body of an eight-year-old to do it?" Maria demanded disbelievingly. "Kid, if they see you walking around by yourself outside, someone is going to call Child Protective Services."

Michael tried in vain to smother a faint chuckle at her comment.

"I am not a kid," the boy answered gravely. "I am…"

"Lord Khorb," Tess interrupted, drawing the words sarcastically, "of the 7th Infantry Division under General Rath. Whatever _that_ means."

There was another knock at the door, and then it swung open and several more aliens walked into the room. Ahab crossed quickly to greet them, talking rapidly and in a low voice to a few in particular. Maria watched cautiously, her eyes fixed on Ahab.

Max trusted him, Michael didn't, Isabel wanted to kill anyone even remotely related to Courtney, and Tess wouldn't given an opinion one way or another. And Maria still had no idea what to think.

Alex had taken a seat on the sofa next to Isabel again, and Maria slipped over to his side and sat down. "It's surreal, isn't it?" she whispered. "The whole thing… we're meeting in my half-alien boyfriend's apart with an army of alien soldiers to discuss fighting in a civil war that is happening on another planet."

"You forgot the part where your boy-friend is the General of the planet and second-in-command to the King," Alex answered with a wry grin.

Maria nodded. "Yeah." Then she sighed. "Liz should be here."

Alex swallowed uneasily. "I know. But… we can't make her come if she doesn't want to."

"She does want to!" Maria protested. "I mean… come on. This is Liz, remember? She wouldn't just walk away from this unless she thought she was being pushed away." And she sent another glare in Max's direction.

There was another knock at the door three more Royalists entered, and then Ahab straightened and looked around the apartment, clearing his throat.

"Everyone is here, your Majesty," he said, addressing Max.

Maria looked around the room. The Royalist army – and she didn't like using the word army now that she realized there were only forty-nine of them, but perhaps it wasn't the numbers that mattered so much as their powers – was comprised of men, women, and children. The eldest appeared to be in her seventies, the youngest with the eight-year-old boy. And there were plenty of people in between those two ages.

There was a teenage girl with bubblegum pink hair and multiple piercings that reminded Maria a little too much of the Dupes. There were five twenty-something guys all dressed in quintessential biker outfits, complete with spikes on their boots and tattoos on their arms. There was an older man dressed in a stuffy brown tweed suit and a bow tie, with a set of small glasses at the end of his nose. There was a bleached-blonde women in her earlier thirties with tall red stiletto heels and a flamboyant red dress with a plunging neckline and far too short of a hem.

Maria's gaze swiveled automatically to Michael to make sure her boyfriend wasn't spending too much time staring at said woman's ensemble. But Michael was looking at Ahab, and Maria felt a little bit of relief at that.

There was a man with dreadlocks and a girl with too much make-up and a hideous plaid skirt and white shirt, probably modeled after some kind of school uniform. There was an older couple wearing sweats and smiling at each other with dewy looks. There was a man holding a newspaper and a briefcase in one hand and a cell phone in the other.

And every single one of them was staring at the four hybrids with a look of complete and utter aw on their features.

It was too surreal for Maria to even put into words.

"Now," Ahab continued with a quick look at Max, "if I may begin this meeting, your Majesty?" Max nodded once, and Ahab smiled. "Alright. For the sake of time, we will save introductions until the end. At the moment, we need to discuss the situation going forward. It has come to our attention," and here he nodded to Kristalia, "that Khivar is on Earth. What we do not know is the extent of his support. Is he waiting for more soldiers or will he attack with those he has? Does he have a plan or is he still strategizing? And, most importantly, how has the death of his brother affected him?"

There was a murmur of assent from around the room, and Kristalia said, "It does not appear that our… source… will be able to get us answers to these questions."

Maria looked over at Max and saw his mouth tighten at the mention of Larek.

"But, as I am sure you can all appreciate, it is necessary that we have this information before Khivar attacks. At this moment, we don't even know what form his attack will take, and we will need to know that if we are to adequately defend the Royal Four, the two humans, and the town of Roswell," Ahab explained.

"And not expose the existence of aliens in the process," Isabel added.

Ahab nodded his head in agreement. "And yes, as the Princess has stated, we must avoid exposure."

"Is any of that possible?" Maria muttered under her breath.

"We will find a way," one of the Royalists answered almost automatically.

Maria started, not expecting to have her commented responded to, but Ahab simply smiled and said, "Indeed. We have the Royal Four together and with us once more. We _will_ find a way."

Out of the corner of her eye, Maria noted that Kristalia did not look convinced.

"As the Princess mentioned, we must be especially careful about the risk of exposure," Ahab added. "We cannot afford to deal with human and skin enemies. The Federal…" he trailed off, looking somewhat unsure, and gave Max a questioning stare, "what is it called again, your Majesty?"

"The Federal Bureau of Investigation," Max answered. "The FBI."

"Yes. The FBI has been a problem for the Royals in the past. We must make sure they do not become a problem now. To that end, the King has suggested that we refrain from meeting in such a large group unless absolutely necessary. We will spend an hour today with introductions and the finer points of our plan, but after this, we will not meet in such a large group unless it is unavoidable. And we should also attempt not to contact the Royals while they are at school or in a public place unless, again, it cannot be avoided."

"Your Majesty?" one of the elderly Royalists spoke up, "A question, please. Can we contact you at your home? Are your parents aware of your identity?"

"They are," Max answered uneasily, clearly not liking the idea of inviting aliens into his home. Even allies.

"Max and Isabel have nosy neighbors, though," Tess spoke up quickly. It wasn't actually true, and Max sent her a surprised glance, but quickly realized what she was doing and schooled his expression into one of neutrality. Tess pressed on, "If you must contact one of us and cannot do it by phone, it would be best if you came to find Michael or I. People in this apartment building are less likely to notice."

"Alright, now that we have that covered, let's focus on Khivar," Ahab said. "I want people positioned at all the major entrances and exits into town at all times. I have blocked off five points of interest. Two people will cover each point at a time, and you will rotate with shifts. I will have the assignments after the meeting. It will be your job to watch for any skins Khivar might send in advance."

Maria rubbed her eyes and shivered. Ahab looked so focused, and everyone in the room was hanging onto his words, listening with rapt attention. She noted then that the army had still refused to sit, they were all standing to attention, accepting the orders in silence.

She couldn't quite explain how it hit her with such force then, but the realization that Ahab was the commander and this truly was an _army_ took her breath away.

She closed her eyes.

She was a teenager. She was seventeen, soon to be a senior in high school, and all around her, they were discussing a war.

She really, really wanted Liz to stay. How was she supposed to do this without her best friend? Although, she would have Michael, and that would help.

But still…

"…will keep in touch with our contacts on Antar. We have a few spies in Khivar's ranks, although not high up enough to know much of importance at the moment. But if they learn anything, you four will inform myself and the Royal Four immediately."

Maria forced herself to focus on what Ahab was saying, to listen to the conversation at hand, particularly when she heard her own name.

"Now, as for the humans – Maria DeLuca and Alex Whitman in particular. It is imperative that they are kept under constant surveillance. Our source," and here Maria deduced that he must still mean Larek, "believes that Khivar is wary of them, is unsure how to respond to their presence. It will not help us if they end up as pawns in his schemes. Whatever he ends up deciding, we must prevent him from using them."

Maria saw Isabel's hand tighten on Alex's arm, and she looked at Michael in time to see his own fingers clench into fists.

"The same holds true for Diane and Philip Evans. Anyone who knows the identity of the Royal Four is in grave danger. Although, those who do not know the identity may be in danger as well. Particularly the DeLuca and Whitman families, and any friends at the high school. I will assign several of you to watch them as well."

"If Liz does go to boarding school, someone should watch her," Tess said. "And someone should keep an eye on Kyle as long as he is in San Francisco."

"It will be done," Ahab agreed. "In the meantime, we will also need to focus on other means of gathering information. We are on Earth now, and it is possible that Khivar has not been as… careful… as he should be. Humans may have noticed something. So I will have some of you investigate that as well…"

Maria leaned further back against the sofa and stared around the immensely crowded apartment as Ahab continued to give orders, as Michael began to pace again, as Max grew more and more stoic and Isabel's features paled dramatically with every passing word, as Tess' expression hardened.

As the beginning of the war was planned.

* * *

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Isabel turned at the sound of Alex's voice and sighed, running a hand through her hair. They were so close to being boyfriend and girlfriend again, although they had yet to really address some of the underlying issues. But she finally felt truly comfortable in his presence once more… and she couldn't tell him what she was thinking.

She didn't want to lie. But she also didn't want to admit these words aloud. Not him, and not even to herself.

"It's nothing," she said, waving away his concerns.

Alex raised an eyebrow and looked at her with a slightly hurt expression. It was clear that he knew something was wrong, and couldn't understand why she would be lying about it. He opened his mouth to say something, and then stopped and shrugged instead.

Isabel lifted her eyes and glanced up at the blindingly bright sun. "I can't believe it's already mid-August," she murmured. "I can't believe that school starts in less than two weeks. What happened to the summer?"

"Time flies when you're preparing for the civil war," Alex quipped, a strained smile on his lips.

Isabel frowned, but then found herself smiling against her will. It was ridiculously simple things like this, like Alex's bizarrely cheerful comment, that helped her make through what would have otherwise been an agonizingly slow couple months.

"Yeah. It's also weird to think that two days ago we were all crammed into Michael's apartment with God knows how many Czechoslovakians…" Isabel said.

Alex linked his arm through hers. "Two months ago, I wasn't sure I'd be able to spend time with you, walking about, perfectly healed. It's been a good summer, too, Izzy. Even if those parts are harder to remember."

Isabel nodded, accepting the truth of his comment. Even a couple weeks ago, long walks had still posed a problem for Alex. His body was stiff and sore, and would probably continue to be for a while, but now they were actually strolling through the park, relishing the freedom of his mobility.

Her mind wandered backwards, then, moving towards the dark thoughts that had filled them only minutes previously, towards the ideas she couldn't discuss with him. With anyone.

It must have shown on her face, because Alex stopped walking and asked in a concerned voice, "Isabel?"

"Yes?" she replied, forcing her smile to remain fixed to her features.

Alex grimaced and pulled back, away from her. "Don't do that," he murmured, his voice soft, but underlined with steel. "Don't shut me out."

"It's really nothing," she protested.

Alex folded his arms over his chest. "Isabel," he said, and there was a clear warning in his voice.

Last year, Alex would have backed off the moment Isabel indicated her desire to drop a subject. Last year, he wouldn't be pressuring her like this, wanting to know what she was thinking, not willing to accept her answers unless they were the truth. Things had changed, and in some ways it was for the better, but it didn't make it easy.

It didn't make Isabel want to answer the question.

This Alex, the one who had nearly died, the one who had been in a coma, the one who had been forced into a project he didn't like by his girlfriend and then betrayed by a supposed ally, the one who had awoken to a group crumbling to pieces all around him…

This Alex did not back down.

"I was thinking about Courtney," Isabel answered, snapping the words angrily. "Okay? It's no big deal."

"What about her?" Alex asked gently, taking her arm again and continuing the walk through the park.

"You mean besides how she betrayed all of us, nearly killed you, did kill Valenti…" Isabel trailed off and shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "I don't want to be thinking about her. I want to be focusing on the Royalists, on the army, on their plans and our plans and what we're going to do to survive this, but…" She stopped, exhaled furiously. "Every time I think of them, my mind goes to Ahab. And every time I think of him…"

"You think of Courtney," Alex finished.

Isabel nodded. "Yeah," she whispered.

She knew it wasn't fair to judge Ahab by Courtney's crimes. She also knew it wasn't fair to assume all rebel skins were going to betray them and, after all, Larek had told Max that they needed to consider the possibility of trusting any other members of that faction who might show up and offer to help.

Of course, she didn't really trust Larek, either. But even if he was telling the truth, even if Ahab was telling the truth, even if Courtney had been the only one who would ever betray them…

She couldn't stop the fury that welled up in her chest at every mention of that blonde skin. She couldn't stop the rage that threatened to consume her. She couldn't just get past this, like it didn't matter anymore.

"I can't help it," she said after a long pause. "I can't get her out of my head."

"Why not?" Alex questioned.

Isabel chewed her lip and considered her answer to that question. Finally, struggling to make some sort of coherent sense out of her complicated emotions, she said, "When you were in a coma, I hated Courtney, but I was more concerned about you. That's why I took the deal. That's why I didn't even consider _not_ taking her deal."

Alex's grip on her hand tightened a bit, a reassuring squeeze. She wondered vaguely if he'd be reassured when he found out that she'd spent the past week envisioning all the horribly painful ways she could kill Courtney should she ever get the chance.

"And then after," she pressed on, fighting to get out the words, "I was worried about Michael and Max never speaking to me again, and you never speaking to me again, and Liz trying to plot some horrible revenge, and Maria helping her with it and… and I don't know. It just… Courtney was gone, out of our lives. And I hated her, but there were so many other things to think about, so I didn't spend a whole lot of time thinking about her."

"And now?" Alex prompted.

"Now Michael is at least acknowledging my presence, and Maria and Liz might still be angry at me but it doesn't bother me as much. And Max… well, I don't know. Maybe I've just gotten used to Max being like this. And I don't… I mean, you and I are okay… sort-of. We're getting there, so I don't have to… have to wonder what my life would be like if you decided you hated me… and I just wish… I want…"

"What do you want?"

Isabel spun around to face him and uttered the words that were completely, entirely honest, "Now I wish we had killed her when we had the chance."

Alex's face went pale with shock and hurt, and then his expression closed quickly, becoming unreadable. It took her a moment to realize exactly how those words could have been interpreted, but by the time it became clear to her that Alex thought she was regretting taking Courtney's deal, he had already started to step away from her, and she couldn't think of the right things to say.

"No… no, Alex, I don't mean… not like that. I… you… you see, I just I wanted… but I didn't want to give up you… don't you see?"

The words came out as babble that probably didn't make any sense to him. But she reached out and snatched frantically at his arm, preventing him from backing away any further. He paused, studying her face, and she realized with surprise that she was crying.

"Oh, God… I'm an emotional mess," she groaned, and dropped his arm, rubbing angrily at her eyes instead.

Alex sighed and pulled her into a hug. Somehow, they had ended up near one of the stone benches, and she found herself being guided towards it. Sitting next to Alex, leaning her head on his shoulder and feeling the tears still leaking from her eyes, she again thought of Courtney and how much she wished they had killed her.

To Alex, she said, "I'm not sorry we took the deal, Alex. I'll never be sorry about that. But I want Courtney to pay. I keep think about all the ways I could hurt her… just like she hurt us. I've spent so much time this past week just… just… fantasizing about her murder. Doesn't that make me crazy?"

"No," Alex said. "It makes you human." He grinned, and then modified the statement, "Well, it makes you part-human, at any rate."

"I'm sorry, Alex," Isabel said.

"For what?"

She let out a long breath. "For apparently becoming a homicidal lunatic."

"You're grieving, Izzy," Alex protested. "It doesn't make you homicidal. Or a lunatic. You just… you're stuck on anger. In the five stages of grief… I guess you just haven't moved on to depression yet."

"Oh, is that what I have to look forward to? _Great_," she drawled.

They were both quiet for a few more minutes, sitting together on the stone bench in the middle of the park, absorbing the heat of the midday sun.

Isabel felt her tears slowly dry up, although the anger lingered behind. She'd heard rage described as a poison before, in some book she had read for her English class. Or maybe it had been a poem. She couldn't really remember the details. But it had been an apt decision, she reflected, as her stomach continued to twist itself into knots and her jaw clenched tightly of its own accord. Anger did feel like a poison, and this one just didn't seem to want to let go.

* * *

"Liz… Lizzie… come on, you can't really think this is a good idea."

Alex watched, torn between amusement, exasperation, and sorrow, as Maria alternated between pleading and threatening Liz in an effort to convince her that going to boarding school was a bad idea. Neither seemed to have any effect on the brunette, however, as Liz just shrugged off her best friend's concerns.

But Maria was not that easily discouraged.

"If you go, I'll never speak to you again!" the pixie blonde threatened. "I won't call you. I won't answer your calls. I'll forget about you completely!"

Liz looked up from where she was sorting through her clothing, looking for things to back, and asked skeptically, "Really?"

Maria flopped onto the bed. "No," she admitted grudgingly. "But come on, chica. You can't do this to Alex and me."

"I'll call you every week," Liz answered. Maria's eyebrows furrowed, and Liz amended her statement, "I'll call you every day. I'll call you every hour. Every minute. Every second. Every nanosecond."

"Okay, now you're just mocking me," Maria grumbled.

Liz tossed her friend a teasing smile.

But then she looked over at Alex and her expression faltered somewhat. He was unable to join in with the bickering between the two. It had taken him a while to finally accept the fact that Liz was leaving, but as he sat in her room and watched her fold her clothing, it became too hard to ignore.

"Guys," Liz said with a heavy sigh, "I just need… I just need to get away from this. From…"

"Max?" Maria suggested.

Liz nodded reluctantly. "It's not just him, though. It's… everything."

Alex watched as Maria struggled to keep her composure, as Liz forced a smile to her lips once more. It was Max, Alex could see that clearly. And maybe there were other things that Liz felt she needed to get away from, other problems that had been plaguing her, but this was the main one.

Max.

Apparently, he had gotten so thoroughly under her skin that she couldn't find any other way of getting rid of him besides leaving Roswell. And Alex didn't like it. And he wasn't convinced that it would do much good, either. Could she really outrun her memories?

"A change of scenery will help," Liz said stoically. "I just…" She stood up, stretching slowly, and faced Maria as she said, "It's not him, you know. It's… it's Courtney. Really, it's… it's her. Everything she did, everything she… ruined. I just need… I'm not happy here, Maria. Not the way I used to be."

"Alex and I aren't enough for you?" Maria asked, pouting.

Liz grabbed a pillow from the bed and tossed it at the blonde. "That's not what I'm saying!"

Maria snatched the pillow and threw it back. "You mean your life doesn't revolve around us? You don't think of me as the sun and moon and stars? Oh, Lizzie, that _hurts_."

Liz rolled her eyes and Alex chuckled slightly.

But even Maria's attempts at humor could not keep the melancholy at bay. Alex rubbed the back of his head absently, watching as Liz returned to her sorting. Some part of him wanted to ask more, to press her for a better explanation for why she needed to leave… and the other part of him didn't want to know.

It had been so obvious for the past several weeks that the group dynamics had changed. He had turned a blind eye to the constant squabbles between Isabel and his two best friends. He had refused to spend much time dwelling on the crumbling relationship between Max and Isabel. He hadn't want to know about any of this, hadn't wanted to be dragged into another argument about who was right and who was wrong when, to him, it didn't even seem to matter.

But it mattered to everyone else.

It mattered to Liz.

She wasn't just running from Max or from Courtney's legacy. She was running from Isabel and Michael, too. She was running from a life that wasn't what it used to be, from problems that Alex had tried so hard not to acknowledge.

"If I thought you guys needed me," Liz said finally, "I would stay."

"We do need you," Maria argued instantly.

But Liz just shook her head. "Maria, you've got Michael. And Alex has Isabel. And you guys have each other. I'm not… I'm not adding anything to this, not really. I can't help you fight this war."

"So forget the war," Alex said, frustrated. Maria and Liz looked at him, and he threw his hands in the air and said firmly, "It's not just about the war, Liz. There's… there are other reasons we might want you to stay around. Things that have nothing to do with aliens or any of that. Things that just… things that have to do with us being your friends."

Liz was quiet for a moment, and then she answered, "But the war _is_ the main reason to stay. Helping to fight… I would never just walk away if I thought I could do anything to help you all with this… but I _can't_. And I can be your friend and not be in Roswell. I can be your friend from far away. I mean… it's not like we were all going to live in the same city for our entire lives. There is this cool thing called a telephone and…"

"It's not the same," Maria interrupted.

"No, it's not," Liz agreed. "But I don't… I don't _want_ to stay here. I love you both and I am going to miss you _so_ much… but this is the right thing for me. I know it is. I need some time to get away from all of this and get myself put back together. I need a chance to get my head put on straight again."

"I'm going to miss you, too," Alex said. "You'll be back over Christmas, right? And maybe Thanksgiving?"

Liz smiled sadly, tears filling her eyes. "Yeah… I'll be back. And we can pick up just like I never left. Right?"

"Yeah… right," Maria murmured.

* * *

Next Chapter: A Parting of the Ways

Due: Now


	13. Parting of the Ways

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

Author's note: I've posted two chapters will this update, so if you haven't read the last chapter (_The Mess You Left Behind part two_), you will want to go back and read it to be able to understand this one.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: A Parting of the Ways

"So… how's Roswell?"

"Okay. A whole bunch of Czechoslovakians showed up, Isabel wanted to kill one because of his possible connection to Courtney, and Liz is going to boarding school."

Tess wrapped the cord of the telephone around her fingers as she looked around her apartment. Everything was unpacked and put away in all the right places, and it probably should have looked and felt like home, but it didn't. It was just a place she lived, a place she slept.

She looked at the bright pink armchair. She'd bought it on a whim, and only because it was so unlike anything she had ever owned before, anything that had ever been in their old house. She had wanted something different, something so far removed from the Valentis' style that it wouldn't reminder her of them.

Perhaps she should get more neon furniture.

"Um… okay." Kyle's voice, wary and a little confused, pulled her out of her thoughts and back to the telephone conversation at hand.

She smiled slightly at his tone, and, changing the subject, asked pointedly, "Picked any more fights lately? Try to beat up people twice your size? Almost attack a police officer?"

"I promised you that I wouldn't. What's the matter, don't you trust me?" Kyle shot back, and she knew by the sound of his voice that he was smiling.

"Hardly," she answered. A pause, then, "Do you miss me?"

She had meant to ask it in a teasing way, but the words didn't come out quite like she had intended, like that had gotten stuck in her throat. It was an unsure, awkward-sounding question, and she mentally kicked herself for even bringing it up.

"Do you have to ask?" Kyle answered quietly.

She leaned back against the table in the small nook that served as her dining room – although she doubted she would ever be able to fit more than three people in it – and said, "School is starting soon."

"Yeah. Don't remind me," Kyle grumbled. "I hate all this academic stuff. Can't I just play football for the rest of my life?"

"I hear that people who play football professionally end up ruining their bodies by the time they are thirty. Do you really want to be hobbling around with a walker, trying to pick up girls?"

Kyle laughed outright at that and shot back, "But if I was a professional football player, I'd already have a girl. Lots of them, probably. Hot ones, too."

"If you were a professional football player, you'd be constantly buried under a pile of much, _much_ bigger guys. You're not actually that big, Kyle. Maybe for Roswell, but for the rest of the world… the _normal_ world… you're a wimp."

"Oh, now that hurts," Kyle said, and she could almost envision him grabbing his chest and moaning in fake pain.

Tess giggled for a moment, surprised by how much she enjoyed talking to him. She and Kyle might have been close, but she hadn't really ever thought they would be the type of siblings who gossiped on the phone. She had assumed his trip to San Francisco would result in frequent phone calls only so she could make sure he was alive…

She was glad that their sibling banter still worked, even across phone lines.

But her thought s sobered as she remembered the one thing she did need to talk to him about.

"Okay… so, here's the thing," she started grimly, "I need you to not overreact to what I am about to say. Okay?"

"Me? Overreact? I think you've got me confused with someone else, Tess," Kyle answered sarcastically.

Tess rolled her eyes, then said, "So… we're considering sending some friendly Czechoslovakians to San Francisco to keep an eye on you. Just in case."

"No! Absolutely not. The last thing I want is a whole bunch of freaks trailing me everywhere," Kyle said instantly, his tone hard and firm. Unyielding. Then he paused and added in a softer voice, "Not that you're a freak or anything like that."

"It would keep you safe… well, safer," Tess protested, ignoring the freak comment. She knew Kyle didn't mean it the way it sounded, and anyway, after everything that had happened to him because of the aliens, she really couldn't blame him for thinking them all to be freaks.

Most of the time _she_ thought they were all freaks, too.

"I'm not in Roswell. Who is going to come looking for me here?" Kyle protested.

"Khivar," Tess answered. "One of his allies. Kyle, you were targeted once already, or did you forget that little trip into bizarre-land? He'll go after you to hurt me. He's done it before."

There was a pause, and Tess was sure that Kyle was thinking about his time in the pocket realm, about the way his mind-warp had worn off and he had suddenly been confronted with all the truths he had never wanted to know. The skins had tried to hurt him and had very nearly succeeded.

Without Tess there to protect him this time around…

"But I left Roswell to get away from all this," Kyle grumbled. "What if… what if I said no?"

"I would abide by your decision," Tess answered.

"Really?" Kyle demanded, the skepticism obvious in his tone. "Even though you clearly think it is putting me in unnecessary danger?"

Tess shook her head in amusement even though she knew Kyle couldn't see it. He knew her far too well.

"Fine, if you want honesty," she said, "then _of course_ I would ignore what you wanted and send the Czechoslovakians to San Francisco anyway. I'd just tell them to keep out of your sight."

"Tess!"

"Hey, you wanted me to be truthful, and that's the truth," she said firmly. "I don't like this anymore than you do, but you can't escape it. No matter where you go, you will always be my brother, and that will always put you in danger. You're safer there than you are in Roswell, I'll admit that much. But you still aren't completely safe. And I care a lot more about you being alive than I do about respecting your wishes."

"You are so annoying sometimes," Kyle muttered.

Tess laughed. "Most people tell me I am so annoying all of the time," she quipped. Then she sighed and said, "Please? Because it would give me at least some peace of mind?"

There was a long silence at the other end, and then Kyle acquiesced reluctantly, "Fine. But only if they stay out of sight and don't get themselves noticed by my friends or classmates. I don't want to have to explain why a whole bunch of weirdoes are following me around."

"Yeah… I think they can manage subtlety," Tess promised.

There was a knock at the door.

"Uh, hold on a sec, Kyle," she said, and put the phone down. Kyle had called her on the apartment's phone, and the cord didn't stretch far enough for her to still talk to him while answering the door. It was a bit annoying, but most of her was just surprised that the apartment actually came with a phone. Of course, for what she was paying, she was surprised the apartment came with any amenities at all.

Pulling the door open, she was greeted by a frustrated-looking Michael, who stormed into her apartment angrily.

"Is the world ending?" she asked.

"Depends," he grumbled, "on whether or not Parker is actually stupid enough to go through with this leaving thing. Just because we're going to have a Royalist watching her doesn't mean Khivar isn't going to kill her and then we'll be back to square one! But she won't listen to Max, and Maria and Alex are apparently now _supportive_ of her… ugh! It's ridiculous."

"Um… right," Tess said with a frown. "And I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. But can it wait? Because if the world is not ending right this second, then I am on the phone with Kyle."

"Call him back!" Michael said angrily. "He'll wait. It's not like _he's_ running off to war."

"And thank God for that," Tess murmured.

"Seriously, I just talked to Maria, and she and Alex were with Liz today. They were packing. _Packing_."

"Well, school starts very soon," Tess reasoned, "so it makes sense that Liz would be packing. She must be leaving in a couple days."

"She _can't_ leave," Michael argued. "Max told her that, and the whole ridiculous thing was her story anyway, so how can she _ignore_ it?"

"I still have no idea what you are talking about," Tess said.

"Go tell Kyle you will call him later," Michael demanded, gesturing towards the phone, "and I'll happily fill you in on all the ways that Parker is an idiot."

Tess raised an eyebrow, but then shrugged. "Fine, whatever." And she walked back to the phone to explain to Kyle that apparently Liz was an idiot for packing and so she had to call him back later.

* * *

Having an irate Tess and an annoyed Michael burst into his house and demand to speak to him was really the last thing Max wanted at the moment. But Tess was now pacing back and forth across the floor of his room with a look so dangerously furious that he was almost sure she was actually going to attack him, and Michael was slumped on the bed, his expression torn between amusement for Max's predicament and fear for the moment Tess turned on him.

And Max still had no idea what he had done wrong.

"So… so Isabel isn't here?" Tess said finally, pausing in her pacing long enough to look over at Max. "She's out?"

"With Alex," Max confirmed.

"Okay… okay…" Tess said. "Good. That's good." She resumed pacing for a moment, then whirled around to Max once again and snapped, "So do you Michael here want to explain to me _how the hell_ you don't mention that apparently the Granolith can be used for time travel and these time travelling people come bearing news of a horrible future?"

Max swallowed uneasily and slanted a look at Michael. "You told her."

"Parker is leaving. She's going to go to boarding school and she is going to die and then the world is going to end," Michael snapped. "Why wouldn't I tell her?"

"To avoid this!" Max retorted angrily, gesturing towards Tess' quivering form. The petite hybrid was so angry she was actually _shaking_ with indignation, and Max was torn between guilt that he didn't tell her about this and anger that Michael couldn't have just left this alone.

"Oh, so now I'm not good enough to be let in on all your precious secrets?" Tess questioned bitterly.

Max groaned and rubbed his eyes. "It's not that, Tess. You _know_ it isn't that!" She glared at him, and he defended himself, "You would have told Isabel."

"So?" Tess questioned.

"Didn't Michael tell you?" Max asked with a frown.

"That she turns evil and apparently helps kill us or something like that?" Tess placed her hands on her hips and said, "Yes, he did tell me. Again, I still don't get why you didn't tell her. More importantly, why didn't you tell _me_ back when it first happened so that we could discuss it then?"

"Because you would have told Isabel!" Max repeated. "I was trying to spare her that. For God's sake, Tess, you saw how she reacted when she thought she might end up as Vilandra. Secretly translating the Destiny Book? Because that worked out so well for all of us!"

Tess looked ready to slap him, and he supposed bringing up Valenti's death was an unfair move, but she had to understand. He was trying to protect his sister and he was trying to protect everyone else from his sister's insecurities. Either way, he didn't want Isabel to know what had happened to her in the future.

He leaned back against the wall and met Tess' furious gaze. He wasn't backing down from this. Under no circumstances was _anyone_ going to tell Isabel. Not even Tess.

"Do you really want to push her over the edge?" he asked coolly. "Do you really want to hurt her like that?"

Tess rolled her eyes. "By telling her the truth? By not lying to her? By helping her prepare so that maybe _this_ future will turn out differently?" She shook her head angrily and looked away. "All this time, I've been assuming that when we rescued Isabel from the skin compound, that most likely meant it was over, and Isabel was being irrational in her worries that Khivar could get to her. I kept thinking that we saved her one – she fought off Vilandra – so she could do it again. And you're telling me that this isn't true? That she might turn on all of us at any second because we don't know how to keep Khivar away from her."

Max shrugged. "We'll figure it out. I don't think she just _turned_. I think… there was probably more to it."

"Yes, but you don't _know_ that," Tess sneered. "You don't know what happened to her in the future, you don't know if there was any way for it to be undone. All you know is that, as it turns out, Isabel had an incredibly legitimate reason for wanting that Destiny Book translated. She was looking for answers to a predicament she didn't even know for sure she would face… because _you_ didn't tell her."

Max rolled his eyes. "It isn't that simple."

"Really?"

Max couldn't quite bring himself to meet Tess' eyes as he said, "Liz wouldn't tell me all of it. Or… she probably would have told me, but I saw the look on her face when I asked her about what Isabel had done in the future, and I didn't press for details. I didn't want to know."

"I… what do you mean?" Tess asked, her anger momentarily replaced by curiosity and something that sounded a whole lot like trepidation.

"I think… I think she _killed_ one of us, Tess," Max answered grimly. "You, me, Michael… maybe… maybe Maria or Alex… I don't know. But I saw Liz's eyes when she told me the story. I _saw_ them. I know what she wasn't saying, I know…" He struggled for the right words, but couldn't seem to find them.

Tess' expression had turned from one of curiosity to one of horror, and Michael was determinedly gazing at the ceiling and saying nothing.

Max closed his eyes and tried to think. It took him a moment, but finally he was able to pull together the words, and he said quietly, "Whatever else she did or didn't do in the future, I am absolutely positive that she killed one of us. And I didn't ask Liz because I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to know. And I don't want Isabel to know, either. I don't want to do that to her."

"And you thought you couldn't explain that to me months ago?" Tess asked slowly.

"When Liz told me the story, Isabel had just been kidnapped by Rath and turned into Vilandra. I was worried that you might… ignore… common sense and tell Isabel anyway. Because… because you'd want her to know what she was up against in the future."

"I wouldn't have told her that she had killed someone. Just that she became Vilandra," Tess protested.

Max let a bitter smile pull up the ends of his lips as he asked, "And do you really think that would have stopped Isabel from doing everything possible to find out just what we all knew about the future? She would have pressed for more details, she would have guessed we were holding something back… and if she was desperate enough, she would have dream-walked us. She would have figured it out, Tess."

"You don't know that," Tess argued weakly.

Max just shook his head.

He knew Tess, and he knew it would take her a little while to realize that he was right about this. That there was no way to tell Isabel part of the story without telling her the whole thing. He could only hope that, before she reached that conclusion, she didn't do anything stupid.

Like talk to Isabel.

"Okay, can we leave Isabel aside for a moment and focus on the fact that everyone seems to be okay with Liz walking off to her death?" Michael suggested dryly. "Maria said that she's convinced she can avoid that particular future. I guess Maria and Alex mentioned to her the idea about a Royalist following her to boarding school to keep her safe, and she seems to think that will help, too."

"I've already talked to her about this," Max said wearily. "She's determined to go. I can't make her stay."

"She's in denial," Michael said flatly.

"What if she's right?" Tess asked, one eyebrow raised.

Max frowned at her, surprised by the comment. Tess had never been Liz's biggest fan, and the very idea that she would take the brunette's side now was startling. But strangely, despite everything that Liz had done in the few weeks after Valenti's death, Tess seemed to be the only hybrid not viewing her with animosity and hatred.

She'd apparently decided that reverting to ignoring the brunette's existence was the best plan.

Michael gave Tess a look of unadulterated disbelief.

When neither Max nor Michael seemed willing to verbalize their obvious displeasure with her question, Tess continued, "What is the future has already changed? I mean… from what Michael told me, it sounded as though this whole thing with Courtney didn't happen in that future. And that Liz died earlier, like… last year, maybe?"

Max nodded slowly. "That's true. But it doesn't change the fact that Khivar knows about her, and if she goes off on her own, she'll be in a lot of danger." Something clenched painfully in his stomach, reminding him of how much it would hurt if she died, how he would not be able to handle the grief.

"We're preparing for a war, Max," Tess said softly. "She's in danger if she stays, too."

"You have to talk to her again," Michael interrupted, throwing Tess a furious look and addressing his comment to Max. "You have to convince her to stay."

"How?" Max demanded, his words clearly filled with frustration. "How am I suppose to convince her of that? I don't even know what she wants me to say!"

"Seriously?" Tess asked, eyes widening. "Isn't it obvious?"

Max stared at her blankly. "Um… no?"

"She wants the same thing we all want," Tess snapped. "She wants to go back to last year, before all of this. When you guys were still sickeningly in love and we were a group and she felt needed. And Isabel wants to go back to a time when you trusted her and supported her instead of ignoring the fact that she's your sister and she lives in the same house as you!" Looking between Max and Michael, she asked sharply, "How do you two miss something that obvious? Isn't it what you want, too?"

"We can't go back," Michael said bluntly.

"I _know_ that," Tess argued. "But it doesn't change anything, it doesn't mean that we stop wanting it." She gave Max a pointed look and said, "Or am I wrong? Are you perfectly happy with the way things are now?"

Max pressed his fingers into his temples, a headache starting to build. "I can't…" He paused, trying to figure out what to say. After a moment, he continued, "I can't spend time thinking about what I want if I know it is never going to happen. We have a war to fight, and I don't have time for… for empty wishes." He closed his eyes briefly, then added, "And we don't need Liz. I can't tell her that she is needed because she _isn't_."

But some part of him wondered if perhaps those words were a blatant lie. Would there ever be a day that he stopped needing Liz, even if she wasn't there for him? Even if he was still mad at her?

"You have to talk to her," Michael said firmly, "and if you have to lie to her, then do it. Tell her you love her, tell her you need her, tell her we can't win this war without her."

"I'm not going to…"

"Suck it up, Maxwell," Michael growled. "This is a war, and if you have to lie to Parker to win it, then you need to lie."

"Oh, there's good advice," Tess mocked. "Let's all start lying to each other. That's not going to cause any problems at all." She stopped just long enough for them both to know what was coming next, and then said, "Oh, wait… Isabel's already tried that. And now Jim is dead."

"If you weren't going to bother being helpful, why did you even come back?" Michael shot at her.

Tess rolled her eyes. "I ask myself that almost every day," she replied before stalking from the room. At the door, she looked back and met Max's gaze. "And don't worry, I won't tell Isabel your precious little secret about how she apparently killed us. _Yet_." And then she was gone.

The room was silent until Michael repeated, "You need to talk to Parker."

And Max shook his head glumly and said, "It won't do any good."

* * *

To say she was surprised to see Michael standing in the doorway of her room was an understatement. Her clothing was strewn about, folded and sorted into odd piles that made sense only to her, and several suitcases lay on the floor, some already half full. The mess made her usually neat and organized room appear strange, even to her own eyes, but it was Michael's presence that was the oddest.

She stood up warily. "Maria's not here."

"I know," Michael answered. He looked down at the suitcases with some disdain. "You're packing."

"Yes, well…" Liz shrugged helplessly, not really knowing what else to say. After a moment of tense silence, she settled on, "I'm going to be gone for a few months. I have a lot of things I need to bring and it is going to take a little while to get them all packed and shipped out there."

"You can't go," Michael said.

Liz turned her back on him and walked over to the shirts folded and placed in rows at the foot of her bed. "My parents have already sent in the deposit and I've been given a roommate. She's seems okay, I've emailed her a couple times. I'm looking forward to this, Michael."

"So you're just going to leave?" Michael spat. "You're just going to bail on us?"

She furrowed her eyebrows and looked at him over her shoulder. "I wasn't under the impression that anyone really cared if I left. Besides Maria and Alex, that is." She didn't wait to see Michael's reaction, instead returning to her clothing. It stung, having him here, accusing her of abandoning them.

"So you're going to leave?" Michael repeated, almost as though he couldn't quite believe it.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Michael," she answered, her words harsher than she had intended. "I've decided to finally do something for myself."

"Well, I guess it makes sense that you'd leave," Michael agreed bitterly, "since you actually have that opportunity. Not all of us are as lucky. Not all of us can just walk away."

Liz paused, a shirt in her hands. It was a dark green, a color she didn't wear that often, and she studied it for a moment, debating whether or not to take it with her. It was a nice top, and it had been expensive, but it was one of those things that she'd bought on a whim, even though she'd known all along that it just wasn't her style.

She set it carefully aside, in the pile of clothing she would take only if there was room.

Michael's words continued to ring in the silence, and it was clear he was waiting for her response. But what could she say? He seemed intent on finding fault in everything she did, and didn't want to hear her explanations. So why waste breath on them?

"What if Khivar comes after you?" Michael said finally. "What if the future hasn't been changed?"

"I thought that's why you'd all wanted to send a Royalist to keep an eye on me," Liz replied, sorting through another couple of shirts – brighter ones that made her smile – and doing her best not to completely lose her temper.

"You won't be safe if you leave," Michael protested.

She faced him again, lips pursed, and answered, "I won't be safe if I stay here, either. _That_ has already been proven."

Michael stiffened at the subtle reminder of Valenti, but said nothing, and Liz felt momentarily guilty for bringing him up. But it was Michael who had started this argument, who had protested that she was only safe her, as though somehow he could overlook the fact that they _weren't_ safe here.

She was still a little surprised by his presence. She had expected Max to try again, or maybe Maria and Alex. Michael was unexpected, and for a brief moment, she couldn't help but wonder if Maria or Max had sent him, hoping he would have better luck.

But Maria had seemed to finally understand why she was leaving, and, if not happy about it, the pixie blonde had accepted it. Even supported it. She wouldn't send Michael to have this conversation… would she?

"I can't believe you would do this," Michael grumbled, shaking his head. "I can't believe you would just…"

"_You_ can't believe it?" Liz snapped, suddenly furious. "Michael, it has been weeks since I told you all that I was considering leaving Roswell. _Weeks_. And you, Max, Isabel, Tess… none of you said anything about it. None of you even seemed to _care_. And now that all this time has gone by and I've bought the plane tickets and made the plans and started packing… _now_ you want to argue with me? If it was that important to you, why didn't you say something when I first brought it up?"

"Max loves you," Michael shot back. "Can't you see that?"

Liz folded her arms over her chest and replied bluntly, "No, I can't. But what I _can_ see is that he doesn't need me anymore. None of you do."

"That's not true," Michael protested.

"Yes, it is," Liz replied, tears stinging her eyes. "Because if Max loved me, if he needed me, he would have told me that. And he would have asked me to stay the first time I suggested that I should leave. But he looked me in the eyes and told me it was a good idea and… and when I talked to him again, after that, he _still_ couldn't give me a reason to stay. He still couldn't say that any of you needed me here."

It wasn't fair of Michael to come here and tell her these lies. It wasn't easy for her to leave, because whatever Max did or did not feel for her did not change the fact that she still loved him. But love wasn't enough, and Michael had no right to walk into her room and start spouting dishonest words in some haphazard bid to get her to put her life on hold for them all… again.

It was a few minutes after that comment that Michael finally left, apparently deciding it was useless trying to reason with her. In the sudden silence of the room, she sat down among the piles of clothing and open suitcases and took a few slow breaths, trying to calm herself.

The tiniest doubts that she had been ignoring for the last couple weeks came back, creeping into her mind. She swallowed uneasily, shaking her head once or twice to clear it. The fact that Michael had shown up at all…

But she trampled those thoughts ruthlessly. She was doing the right thing, the best thing. She wasn't needed here, and Max and the others had made that abundantly clear. It was time to start doing something for herself, to start pursuing all the hopes and dreams she had had before the hybrids invaded her life.

* * *

Next Chapter: First Day of School

Due: Sun 11/28


	14. First Day of School

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: First Day of School

"I heard that he left because he blamed Whitman for still being alive. That whole miracle thing… I mean, he _should_ have died in a coma. But he doesn't. Just wakes up, but the Sheriff doesn't get that lucky, so Kyle splits."

"You think he ran out on Roswell – and his sister – because he was jealous?"

"Well… his father is dead. Although, from what I hear, it had to have been the Sheriff's fault. I mean, he was the one driving the car, right? He's the one who crashed…"

The ring of metal hitting metal echoed through the hallway as Tess slammed her locker door shut and spun around to face the two unfortunate sophomores. Neither of them had noticed her, too caught up in their gossip to wonder if perhaps they should be more careful, and now she was glaring at them with barely-concealed fury.

"Anything else you would like to add about my father's death?" she spat. "Or my brother leaving Roswell? Anything that can make this day more interesting for you?"

"No…" the braver of the two girls managed. "Sorry. We're just… we're going now…"

And they both turned and fled.

Tess ran a hand through her hair and scanned the hallway. They were only two hours into the first day of school, and already she wanted to kill someone. She had been forced to endure the pointed stares and whispers that had been absent during the summer, and it was making her livid. Didn't people have anything better to do that gawk at her?

The couple weeks of school that had been left after Jim's death were all vague memories in her mind, though she had no doubt that she had received quite a few stares then as well. But with Kyle's absence added to the list, she was officially becoming the most interesting person at the school.

And it wasn't as though she had never been a source of gossip. In fact, having spent the last three years as one of the most popular girls in school, she had been _nothing but_ a source of gossip.

But this was different.

This was driving her insane.

This whispers followed her everywhere, faint snippets of phrases flickering in and out of her hearing.

"…weird, though, that he just left. Didn't think Kyle was the kind who would just run away from…"

"I think it's odd that she _didn't_ leave… would have thought… Tess would go wherever her brother… nothing left for her here, is there?"

"..but grief… tear apart a family…"

The last comment made her smile, a bitter, sardonic expression. She turned, scanning the crowded hallway for a moment, eyes landing with acidic amusement on the three students who were gossiping about her. The one who had spoken last – someone she didn't recognize at all, but who looked young enough to be a freshman – looked up and caught her gaze, then flushed and looked quickly away.

If only he knew how right he was. Grief could tear apart a family. In this case, grief coupled with fury and fear had torn apart her family. Just not the family the freshman was referring to.

She hadn't seen Max or Isabel all day. She'd had first period with Michael, and sent him a withering stare the moment he tried to talk to her. He of all people should know that today would be a good day to avoid her. Couldn't he see that these rumors were putting her into a very foul mood?

"Tess!"

She whipped around, an insult already on her lips as a response to whoever wanted to talk to her now, and then stopped. She had been expecting the usual false sympathy and barely-concealed dig for more information, but found instead an expression of tentative concern.

She let out a breath and pushed away her irritation. She didn't want to get mad at him.

"Hi, Chris," she greeted.

He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "I haven't seen you in weeks," he said, sliding his arm around her shoulders.

It was true, Tess reflected. Although they were still dating, she had only seen him twice over the summer. Once, before leaving for San Francisco; and once, after returning early. They had both been short visits.

She forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Sorry. I've been busy."

His fingers tightened on her shoulder, a reassuring squeeze. "I know," he said. "I'm not saying I expected to see you every second that you were back in Roswell. You have a lot going on with… you know, moving and stuff."

"Yes," Tess said flatly. "Moving and stuff."

"All I am saying is that I missed you," Chris continued.

"I missed you, too," Tess said, although she had no idea if that was true. She liked Chris. She really liked Chris. But her relationship with him was nothing like the relationship between Max and Liz or even Michael and Maria. Or, actually, even Isabel and Alex. It was a normal, casual high school relationship. She liked him, but she didn't have to be with him all the time.

She wished she could have spent more time with him over the summer, but between Kyle's idiocy, the arrival of the Royalists, Liz leaving, and Michael's apparent opinion that the world was going to end… well, she'd had other things to worry about.

"Anyway, I've heard a lot of the rumors going around school today, and I just wanted to see how you were doing," Chris said, interrupting her thoughts.

She stopped, turning towards him and standing on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss into his lips. "I hate all people everywhere," she murmured.

Chris laughed. "I know," he agreed.

"…heard he just ran away in the middle of the night. Didn't leave a note or anything."

"Wouldn't surprise me. But it is weird that both Valenti and Parker left. I mean… nobody leaves Roswell during high school."

"Maybe they ran off together?"

Tess stiffened, and Chris wrapped a hand around her arm, a warning look in his eyes. "I don't think causing a scene is going to help the rumors die down," he murmured.

Tess glowered, but couldn't really argue with him on that point.

"Hey, but that Courtney girl left, too. Although earlier in the year. It's weird, though. Three students leaving this year. And Whitman almost dying…"

Tess felt a rush of rage at the mention of Courtney, but forced herself not to say anything. It wasn't like she could yell at anyone about _that_. She'd have to explain why she hated Courtney so much, and how could she do that without revealing way too many secrets?

Chris started pulling her away, pushing through the crowd impatiently. Several students turned to argue with him, not pleased by his brusque movements, but froze immediately at the sight of Tess.

She wasn't sure what she hated more: the ones who gawked or the ones who could meet her eyes.

It was when one of them – a junior girl who really should have known better – reached out and caught her sleeve that Tess felt all self-control slipping away.

"Is it true that Kyle left?" the girl asked breathlessly. "Just disappeared? And did it have anything to do with Parker and Evans breaking up and Parker skipping town?"

"Here's an idea," Tess said viciously, blue eyes darkening, "how about we take your father and stuff him in a car and then send it spinning out of control so that he dies in a car crash? And then we can talk about _your_ life."

"I was just asking," the girl said with a huff.

"Well, stop it," Tess snarled. "Do you think having all the good gossip is suddenly going to make you _popular_? Do you think it will make people _listen_ to you? Because maybe they will, but when you're all done spouting ridiculous stories, you're going to go back to being the same _pathetic_, _unimportant nobody_ who has to beg people to care about her!"

There was an absolute dead silence in the hallway.

"I think we should all take a moment to calm down," came a new voice, and all eyes swung to the young man standing near the doors leading to the main office. He looked to be in his earlier thirties, and had a pleasant smile and kind eyes. His gaze traveled over the group before landing very briefly on Tess.

Tess glared at him. She didn't want to calm down.

"Now," the man continued mildly, "I am sure you are all excited to be back in school, catching up with friends and learning about the things you each did over the summer. But I think we should all take a moment to remember that Jim Valenti put several years into protecting this town. He was our Sheriff, and that required quite a bit of understanding and responsibility. We do a disservice to him if we gossip about his death or the results of it. I would prefer that we all instead focus on remembering him for the great man he was."

Nobody said anything. Tess dropped her gaze and looked down at the ground, wondering just who this man was and why he was saying these things. What did he know about Jim or the sacrifices he had made?

Then Chris leaned in and whispered into her ear, "That's Mr. Loggers. He's the new guidance counselor this year." A slight pause, then, "He's probably going to want to talk to you."

"Now," Mr. Loggers continued, "don't you all have class?"

The students scurried away.

"Tess Harding?" Mr. Loggers asked, stepping in front of Tess and Chris and blocking their escape. "I'm George Loggers, I'm the new guidance counselor. I would appreciate it if we could find a time to talk this week."

Tess shrugged in disinterest. "Sure. Whenever."

"Wonderful," Mr. Loggers said, clapping her on the shoulder. "I'll give you a few days to settle into classes, alright? Then we'll talk. It will be great." And he walked away.

Tess and Chris exchanged glances, and Tess watched as Chris struggled not to laugh at the less than enthusiastic look on her face. She gave him an annoyed look, but he just smiled back at her.

"I hate you," she grumbled under her breath.

"I know," Chris answered. "You hate everybody. We've already established that."

* * *

Isabel glanced around the classroom warily, noticing in a mixture of concern and anger that most eyes seemed to be fixed on her. She'd heard the rumors that had rushed through the student body, knew that most people in this class were far more interested in learning about her life than about the actual topic for the year – calculus – and it worried her. And annoyed her. Didn't they have anything better to do than whisper to each other?

Max came to stand next to her, and she felt an incredible amount of relief that she wasn't facing this alone. Of course, she knew he had his own problems, namely the fact that everyone seemed rather interested in Liz's sudden departure. She'd heard the speculations about _that_, too, and had the entire situation not been so serious, she would have found some of them to be quite amusing.

But no matter what Max said to anyone else, it was blatantly obvious to her that Liz's departure was tearing him apart inside, and he didn't need a constant reminder of it.

"Hey, Isabel."

Isabel turned towards the girl who had spoken, and smiled. "Hey, Trudy," she greeted, feeling even more gratitude to see yet another friendly face. Trudy may not know the truth about what actually happened, but she would respect Isabel's desire not to talk about it.

Trudy glanced at Max, her smile faltering somewhat. "Max," she said, nodding her head. "You guys both in this class?"

"Yeah," Isabel answered when it became clear that Max wasn't going to say anything. "Looking forward to a fun-filled year of integrals and formulas."

"Oh, joy," Trudy deadpanned. She glanced around the room, then added, "Well, come on. I guess we should grab seats." And she started towards a row of desks near the back of the classroom.

Isabel followed, Max right behind her. It was far enough away from the teacher that they wouldn't be immediately noticed if they weren't paying attention, but still not the last row where all the stereotypical troublemakers sat. Isabel sank into one of the desks and dropped her backpack on the ground, just as the bell rang.

She wasn't sure she could survive fifty minutes of this. She wasn't sure she could survive the remaining two-and-a-half hours in the day.

"So, Evans," a cool voice said, interrupting Isabel's thoughts, "is it true you chased Parker out of town?"

Isabel looked up as Max stiffened, eyes narrowing. Pam Troy was leaning against the desk in front of them, her lips curled into an icy smile.

"Go away, Pam," Isabel snapped.

"Oh, touchy," Pam murmured, her gaze still fixed on Max.

The last time Isabel had thought about Pam, let alone actually interact with her, had been their sophomore year. They hadn't been friends then, and they weren't friends now, but Isabel had forgotten just how much she disliked the other girl.

Pam's eyes slid past Max and landed on Trudy. "Guess it's a bad year for keeping significant others, isn't it?" she said. "I mean, Parker skips town, Kyle runs off…"

"Kyle didn't run off," Trudy answered, a flush of color rushing to her face. "His father died, Pam. Can't you at least _pretend_ to have a heart?"

Isabel groaned inwardly and ran a hand through her hair. Sophomore year had been filled with several attempts on the part of Pam to insult Trudy, to push her away from Kyle. She had been successful for a time, but Trudy had finally won out in the end, and neither girl seemed willing to forgive the other for any of it.

Pam frowned and asked, "Have you spoken to him? Or did he leave without bothering to say goodbye?"

"Not that it is any of your business," Trudy snapped, "but I have spoken to him a couple times since he left." There was something in the way she said the words that caused Isabel to look over at her, eyebrows furrowed.

Pam picked up on it, too, and apparently did have enough of a heart to asked softly, "How's he holding up?"

Trudy averted her gaze. "He's fine," she said firmly. Too firmly. And too quickly.

Isabel thought back to the conversation she'd had with Tess the night they had talked on the phone. Everything had seemed fine, Kyle had even invited over friends to watch a movie. But… Tess was hardly known for being open and honest about her problems. If Kyle wasn't doing well, she wouldn't have actually admitted it.

Isabel closed her eyes and drew a slow breath, feeling a slight amount of guilt. She'd yelled at Tess, accused her of not caring about all of them left in Roswell, but what if…?

Pam and Trudy exchanged a few more words, and then Pam marched off in a huff. Isabel watched her go, then looked up at the front of the class and realized the teacher had started talking. She reached down to her backpack and pulled out a notebook and a pen.

She really didn't care about calculus.

Max suddenly looked over at her, and then past her to Trudy. "How is Kyle?" he asked, and Isabel's eyes widened slightly. Max had barely spoken at all during the day, but now he was breaking his apparently self-imposed silence to ask about Kyle?

Trudy shrugged. "About as well as you would expect anyone to be if they've just lost their only parent," she answered, an edge of bitterness in her voice.

"Not that good, huh?" Isabel murmured wearily.

Again, Trudy shrugged. "I guess not. You should ask Tess, though. She talks to him more than I do."

"Are you guys…?" Isabel started and then stopped abruptly. There was really no good way to ask Trudy if she and Kyle were still dating.

She tapped her pen against her notebook and shifted her gaze back to the teacher. He was drawing something on the chalkboard. She debated copying it down, but decided there was no reason. It wasn't worth the effort.

Trudy had stiffened slightly, knowing exactly what the other girl had been asking even if she didn't finish the question. She looked at Isabel for a moment, then down at her own pad of paper.

"No," she said. "We haven't been dating since he left."

"Oh… I'm sorry," Isabel said, floundering for the right words.

Trudy chewed her lip for a moment, then sighed. "I really liked him, but… I mean, realistically, it was just a high school relationship. I'll leave for college at the end of the year, and I'm sure if we hadn't broken up before then, that we would…" She laughed a little, softly. "Most people don't actually end up marrying their high school sweethearts."

Out of the corner of her eye, Isabel watched as Max turned his attention away from Trudy and looked up at the teacher. Had he dreamed of marrying Liz? She had no way of knowing, and she didn't really want to ask now.

Either way… Trudy was right. Most high school relationships didn't last beyond graduation.

* * *

"I don't like this," Maria announced as she met Alex in the parking lot, holding the keys to her car in one hand.

Alex glanced at her, eyebrows raised. "School?"

"No." Maria paused, reconsidered, and said, "Well, yes. I don't like school. But I really don't like school without Liz."

Alex sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He couldn't disagree with her on that one. He'd always taken it for granted that Maria and Liz would be around. Obviously they would have probably gone their separate ways after graduation, but he hadn't expected to lose one of them so soon.

Roswell without Liz was just… weird.

"I keep thinking I can call her tonight to debrief about the teachers we had or the classes we're taking or some gossip that we heard, but… but I _can't_," Maria complained. "Because she didn't have those teachers and she didn't take those classes and she didn't hear that gossip."

"I'm okay with her not hearing the gossip," Alex said firmly.

The pixie blonde looked at him sharply, then gave a slow nod. "Yeah, okay. I can agree with you on that. How did you manage?"

Alex grimaced. He'd had at least Maria or Isabel in all of his classes until the last one, and it wasn't until that last one that he realized just how much he'd been relying on their presence to keep him sane. The room had gotten instantly quiet when he entered, and then the whispers had filled the air. He'd heard all the rumors many times, but there hadn't been a single person in that class to commiserate with him. No Liz of course, but not even Maria or Isabel, or Max and Michael… even Tess would have been preferable to being on his own.

"Well, it is quite interesting to hear what people think of me," Alex said after a moment. "And of my miraculous recovery. Depending on who you ask, I either have supernatural regeneration powers like Wolverine or God healed me." He paused, then added with a forced smile, "It'd be cool to be like Wolverine."

Maria squeezed his arm and offered him a watery smile. "Come on, let's go. Do you want me to drop you off at home or the Crashdown?"

"I have to go home," Alex answered. "My parents want me to come home right away after school so that they can convince themselves I'm still alive." There was a bit of sarcasm in his voice, but Maria didn't comment on it, and Alex knew it was probably unnecessary. His parents had a very good reason for being concerned about his health – he'd been in a coma, after all – and school had been stressful. Part of him was actually looking forward to the reprieve from all the pointed stares.

He followed Maria to her car and slipped into the passenger seat. Across the parking lot, he saw Max and Isabel climbing into their car. Isabel paused as she caught sight of him, and lifted a hand to wave goodbye. He smiled and returned the gesture.

Then he buckled his seatbelt and watched as Maria turned the key in the ignition and drove the car out of the parking lot.

His parents had been convinced that he would have a hard time getting back into a car. Assuming that he had, in fact, been in a car accident, they were naturally amazed at how easy it was for him to push aside those memories. He hadn't been able to tell them that he had no reason to fear cars because it hadn't been a car crash that had put him in the coma, and so he'd said nothing.

But they'd still be surprised and a little uneasy.

All adults seemed uneasy around him.

On a whim, he turned to Maria and said, "The new guidance counselor wants to talk to me. He pulled me out of the last class to introduce himself and schedule an appointment for the future. I think he's worried about how I'm adjusting to being…"

"Not in a coma or dead?" Maria supplied when Alex trailed off.

He nodded. "Something like that. I heard he also wanted to talk to Tess."

Maria narrowed her gaze at Alex and said, "Why?"

"Because her father was killed and her brother left Roswell," Alex answered, frowning in confusion. How could it not be incredibly obvious why the new guidance counselor might be concerned about Tess?

"Yeah, I _know_ that," Maria grumbled. "I just…" She hesitated for a moment, then said, "Are we sure he isn't… oh, I don't know. FBI?"

"Like Ms. Topolski?" Alex questioned. "I don't know, Maria. I mean… not everybody is out to get us."

"No, not everybody is out to get us," Maria muttered, "but a lot of people _are_."

Alex sighed. He couldn't really argue with that. Still… "It's not unusual that he would be interested in talking to Tess and I. In fact, that is _exactly_ what you would expect from a guidance counselor who was actually good at his job. I don't think we can really take his interest in me as a sign that he's working for the FBI or whatever."

"Yeah, I guess," Maria grumbled.

"And, anyway," Alex said, "I doubt Tess is going to give away anything. In fact, I can't imagine she's going to tell him anything at all. And I certainly won't be confiding in him about Courtney. We'll be careful, and we'll be on the lookout for any sign that he isn't who he says he is."

Maria nodded, looking a bit reassured, but not really convinced.

* * *

The Crashdown without Liz was just strange.

Max sat in a booth, watching as Maria donned the ridiculous waitress outfit and moved around the tables, taking orders. It was clear from the stress in her eyes that she, too, was having trouble adjusting to the absence of her best friend. But at least she had Michael, who seemed determined to make sure that she didn't suffer through this alone.

Max shifted his gaze towards the backroom and the kitchen where he knew Michael was currently working. He hadn't seen the stoic hybrid much during the day, although they had exchanged stories briefly at lunch.

Both of them had been annoyed by the never-ending gossip. And both of them had been worried about Tess' rapidly fraying control over her temper, Isabel anger and frustration over all the whispered comments, Maria's blatant distress at Liz's absence, and Alex.

Everything about Alex still worried Max. Part of him knew that what they had done had worked, and Alex would be fine, but it was still hard to let go of the horror he had felt upon seeing Alex's unconscious body in that hospital bed. Still hard to face the reality that they had done this, they had brought this danger to their friends.

"So… this is what you do all day?"

Max looked up in surprise at the girl who appeared before him, sliding into the opposite side of the booth. She was blonde with green eyes, looked to be perhaps a few years older than him, and was an alien. One of the Royalists they had met.

"Um… yes?" Max answered, unsure what to say. He was a little annoyed to find his afternoon interrupted in such a way, but he knew he could hardly be surprised. Just because they hadn't started fighting yet didn't mean the war wasn't coming, and he knew that there were Royalists watching him at all times.

And wasn't _that_ just a creepy thought?

Of course, it was less voyeurism and more them wanting to make sure he was safe, wanting to make sure that, if he were to be attacked, they would be able to defend him. But still…

"You go to school and you learn history about Earth and how to write properly and math?" the girl said. "That's really… that's it? Doesn't it get boring, your Maj…"

"Don't call me that," Max interrupted sharply, eyes darting around nervously. The last thing he needed was for someone to overhear the conversation and wonder why he was being referred to as royalty.

"My apologies," the Royalist said, but at least she seemed to understand the danger. "Should I just call you… Max?" The dislike for that name was evident in her voice.

"Unless you want a whole bunch of people to wonder why you think I'm royalty and why you're calling me by a weird, not-normal-sounding name," Max answered, "I think we're going to have to stick with Max."

"Very well," the girl said. "In public, I will call you Max. But please assume that I am silently addressing you by your proper title and not being so informal."

"Uh… sure," Max said.

"So… doesn't think school get… boring, Max?" the Royalist pressed.

"Sometimes boring is nice," Max answered. "Sometimes it is a lot better than exciting. Excitement always seems to have a price."

The conversation was interrupted by the approach of Maria, who glanced questioningly at Max before asking, "Are you going to order or what?"

"Yeah," Max said. "Just… whatever. Burger and fries."

She scribbled the order down on her notepad and glanced at the Royalist, an eyebrow raised. "For you?"

"Oh, nothing for me," the Royalist answered. Then she paused and added, "That is the most hideous and offense costume I have ever seen. Do you really think all aliens have antennas?"

Maria adjusted her headband and glanced at Max again. "You guys are everywhere," she muttered under her breath.

"Yes," the Royalist said seriously. "That is our job. How can we protect Z… _Max_… if we are not…"

"Okay, you know what?" Maria interrupted. "I like the seen-and-not-heard idea."

"What?" the Royalist asked, bewildered.

"She's telling you to stop talking," Max answered.

"Well, why doesn't she just _say_ that?" the Royalist questioned, gaze travelling up and down Maria's body. "Can't you talk in plain language, or do you always insist on speaking in riddles?"

"It wasn't a riddle!" Maria snapped. "It made perfect sense to me and Max!"

Max chuckled, hiding a grin behind his hand. Maria was clearly annoyed, and the Royalist seemed torn between being affronted and being surprised, but somehow the absurdity of the entire situation just struck him as funny.

Maria saw the smile and snapped, "What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing," Max said quickly.

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Make fun of me all you want. At least I didn't run my girlfriend out of town."

And just like that, all the amusement was gone.

Maria stalked away, and Max stared down at the table and tried desperately not to think of Liz.

* * *

Next Chapter: The Way It Was Supposed to Be

Due: Sun 12/5


	15. The Way It Was Supposed to Be

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: The Way It Was Supposed to Be

Sitting in the small room was like some odd flashback to sophomore year, and Tess wasn't really sure she wanted to deal with those memories. It wasn't Ms. Topolski sitting across from her, of course, and she had no reason to believe that Mr. Loggers was anything besides a guidance counselor, but it didn't change the fact that she had no desire to talk to a complete stranger about her feelings.

She crossed one leg over the other and rested her hands in her lap. The air was thick with tension, but Mr. Loggers didn't seem to mind. He just stared at her, a faint smile on his lips, waiting for her to speak.

She didn't even know what to say.

The question he had asked – how are you doing? – was so vague and open-ended, and how was she supposed to answer it?

She lifted one hand and rested it on the arm of her chair. She shifted in her seat and glanced over at the windows that looked out onto the quad. She swallowed back her annoyance and switched her gaze to the clock.

Maybe if she dragged this out long enough she'd be able to miss all of her math class.

"Tess?" Mr. Loggers prompted after a while.

She snapped her eyes to him. "Yes?"

"Do you remember my question?" he asked, leaning back in his seat.

She almost laughed. Instead, however, she replied bitingly, "What do you want me to say?"

"Anything at all," he answered. "Tell me whatever you want to tell me. I'd just like to know how you're doing."

She lifted one eyebrow. "My father is dead and my brother moved to California," she said.

"And?"

"And what?" she snapped. She really had no idea what he wanted her to say, but he kept smiling at her with that infuriatingly calm expression as though he had all the time and all the patience in the world to wait for her to be ready to talk.

"And how does that make you feel? You've told me about your father and your brother, but I would like to know about you."

Tess scuffed the ground with the heal of her shoe and shrugged. "What's the point in talking about it. I assure you that I still have every intention of passing my classes and going on to college." She looked at the window again. "Anything to get out of Roswell."

"Is Roswell really that bad?" the guidance counselor asked.

"Yes," she said without the slightest bit of hesitation.

"Why?" he pressed.

How could she answer that? It wasn't like she could explain how tired she was by the entire alien mess. It wasn't like she could tell him that instead of feeling bitterness or anger at Liz's departure the way that Michael and Isabel did, she only felt envy. It wasn't like she could lay out all the problems they had faced over the past years, starting with Max healing Liz and ending with Courtney killing Jim.

It wasn't just Roswell, of course. Leaving the town would not allow her to escape her own alien half, and she had no doubt that trouble would follow her anywhere she went. But Roswell was part of the problem, and at least if she was somewhere else, it would be a change of scenery.

Maybe she could outrun some bad memories.

Finally, she said aloud, "It's too small and too quiet and too… nosy. I'd rather go somewhere where I can be more… anonymous."

"You prefer anonymity?" Mr. Loggers asked, leaning forward with interest.

"Yes," Tess said.

"But you have spent the last three years being part of the… popular… group at this school, haven't you? That doesn't exactly lend itself to being anonymous."

Tess shrugged. "Things change."

"You don't want to be popular anymore?"

"I don't want my life to be everyone else's gossip," she answered angrily. "I don't want to walk down the halls and hear the sordid details of my father's death every day."

"I see," Mr. Loggers said with a nod.

"Do you?" Tess shot back, eyes narrowed. "Have you spent a lot of time with people gossiping about your family?" She pushed her chair back a bit, the legs scraping against the floor. "It was a car accident. And Kyle left to do football stuff. In other places in the country, neither of those would be that big of a deal."

"Perhaps," Mr. Loggers conceded, "but your father wasn't just an average Roswell citizen. He was the Sheriff. And that means something here, at least among adults."

Tess scowled. "It shouldn't. It's just a pointless job. I mean… it's Roswell. It's not like we ever have real crime."

"Maybe not," Mr. Loggers agreed. "But still…" He looked down at his desk and switched subjects, "How often do you speak to your brother?"

"Usually every couple of days. Sometimes only for a few minutes, but we like to check in," Tess answered.

"And how is he doing?"

That was not a question Tess really wanted to think about. She knew how Kyle was doing, or, at least, how he had been doing when she came back to Roswell. And he claimed he was better now, and he wasn't acting like a complete idiot, but the kind of anger she'd seen that night of the party…

That wasn't anger that just went away. She should know, she'd been dealing with it, too.

"I don't want to talk about Kyle," she said finally.

"You spend a lot of time and effort worrying about him," Mr. Loggers murmured.

She shrugged. "He spends a lot of time and effort worrying about me," she answered. "That's what family does. Particularly when it is rapidly dwindling."

"You don't have extended family," Mr. Loggers said. It wasn't a question.

Tess didn't bother answering.

"What about the Hardings? Did they have extended family?"

"I'm not talking about Andrew and Jessica," Tess spat quickly, fiercely. Mr. Loggers seemed taken aback by the venom in her words, and she thought after a moment that perhaps she shouldn't have been that firm in her refusal. But she didn't want to talk about the Hardings, either.

They had nothing to do with any of this. Just another bad memory.

"Okay. So tell me about your friends," Mr. Loggers said, changing subjects yet again.

Tess frowned. "What about them?"

"Are you getting along with all of them?"

"Yeah, I guess," Tess said. "Chris has been really great about everything, and so have Sara and Jessica. Cliff I know is pretty upset that Kyle left, they were really good friends. And, of course, Trudy is upset about it, too."

"Kyle and Trudy McIntire were dating," he said.

She frowned again. "You know way too much about your students' lives," she said bluntly.

"I assure you, Tess, I don't usually make it my business to know those sorts of details," Mr. Loggers said with a light laugh. Then he sobered and explained, "But like you said, it is hard not to hear the gossip in the hallways."

Tess curled her fingers into fists. "Yeah."

"So… how _are_ you doing?" Mr. Loggers asked again, repeating his initial question.

She looked at him for a long moment. "This isn't what I expected my senior year to be like," she said. "And I don't like not being able to control that."

"What was your senior year supposed to be like?"

Tess tapped her feet on the ground idly and sighed. "I don't know. Just… different." She wanted to say _better_ instead of _different_, but stopped herself. She didn't want to give Mr. Loggers a reason to continue asking questions. She wanted this to be over.

It wasn't.

"Different? How so?"

"My father was supposed to be alive," she answered, rolling her eyes. Wasn't it obvious what she meant by _different_?

"Did you have any other dreams?" he pressed.

She did, of course, but they weren't ones she was going to share. And they weren't dreams that would come true. They pretty much all involved ignoring the war brewing in the background and acting like the normal teenager she longed to be.

She shrugged.

"Sometimes, the loss of dreams can be it's own kind of grief," Mr. Loggers said softly. "It is all too often overlooked, Tess, but losing out on what we hoped for our future can be just as painful as losing a loved one."

She didn't say anything.

"What you need to do now," Mr. Loggers said gravely, "is come up with new dreams."

Tess thought about the Royalist army, about Khivar being on Earth, about Courtney and Jim and Alex, about Kyle nearly being arrested, about Liz leaving…

She knew her new dream. At this point, it was merely to be alive at the end of the year.

* * *

"_Where are we going? Rath! Rath, tell me," Vilandra protested, stumbling slightly over the ground as Rath dragged her through the trees._

_He paused and turned back to her, bringing up his other hand and catching her easily, steadying her. She pulled away from him and pouted, hands coming to rest on her hips. Clearly being forcibly led through the tangled royal gardens without any explanation was not her idea of fun._

_Rath sighed. "Come on," he said. "I want to show you something. Zan is already there."_

"_Already where?" she asked, raising one eyebrow._

"_It is a surprise!" Rath answered hotly. "Honestly, you are worse than Ava, Princess."_

"_Ava is there, too?" Vilandra asked eagerly._

"_Yes," Rath said impatiently. "Now come on."_

_Vilandra glared at him, but obediently followed as he picked his way through the trees. He walked a bit more slowly as she seemed to have some trouble navigating the twisted roots that covered the floor. The royal garden – or, at least, this part of it – was overgrown. It was a mass of overwhelming greens and blues and smaller dots of color. But at the moment, it was mostly black and gray, with just the faintest bit of silver light from the moon to illuminate the ground._

"_We should not even be out this late," Vilandra said uneasily ,chewing her lip and looking around. "My father will be upset."_

"_As long as the King does not find out…" Rath murmured, low enough to keep his words from reaching the Princess. When they were younger, she had always been eager to break the rules. Now, although they were still young, she had grown some sense of responsibility and propriety which made it unlikely she would be happy to hear him disregard the monarch's feelings._

_The trees gave way to a wall, part of the wall that surrounded the palace. There was a door directly in front of them, and Rath reached forward, his hand closing over the cold metal ring that served as a doorknob._

_He yanked it open and gestured for Vilandra to proceed him into the dark._

_The door led to a corridor, and the corridor ended in a spiral staircase cut into the stone. Vilandra led the way up the stairs, Rath trailing close behind, urging her to move faster._

"_Come on, you don't want to miss it," he whispered._

_She stopped and turned to face him. "Miss what?" she demanded._

"_Go on up and you'll see, Princess," Rath replied, gesturing towards the stairs._

_She scowled, but turned and continued walking._

_The stairs finally ended, fanning out into a large room with several windows along one side. At one of the far windows, two figures could be seen. One taller, leaning forward eagerly, peering through the window at the night sky. The other, a petite figure, bouncing up and down on her heals._

_Rath and Vilandra joined them._

"_Prince Zan," Rath greeted. "Lady Ava."_

_Ava turned. "Rath. Princess," she said cheerfully, a smile of anticipation spreading over her features. "It is almost time."_

"_Time for what?" Vilandra asked crossly._

_As if to her answer her words, the sky beyond them burst into color. Reds and blues and yellows exploded, rings of light circling each other before fizzling out, to be replaced almost immediately by another flare of color. In the center of the circles, a bright white dot of light condensed and then expanded, filling the sky, illuminating the city below._

"_Oh… wow…" Vilandra breathed. She hurried over next to her brother and leaned out of the window. "I did not know they were doing fireworks tonight. Father did not say…"_

"_It is not a royal celebration," Zan explained. "It is a celebration of the army, so Father would not have thought to tell us. Besdies," he lowered his voice conspiratorially, "we are too young, and it is too late at night. He would not have wanted us to attend. But Rath knew…" And he smiled at the other boy._

_Rath grinned in response._

"_Oh, look!" Ava said abruptly, pointing. Rath turned just in time to see the sky fill with red light that took the shape of a dragon._

_The four friends were all very impressed._

_They were old enough to know that they were different from normal people, that they were special. They were old enough to feel the bond that existed between them, to know that they were meant to spend their lives together. They were old enough to understand that one day they would have the burden of caring for an entire planet on their shoulders. _

_But they were too young to care about that now, and they had no idea what the future would bring._

Michael started and jerked his head foreword, glancing around uneasily. A few of the students sitting around him snickered, and he heard one murmur, "Decided to sleep through class, Guerin?" But the teacher hadn't noticed, and none of the students who had noticed seemed to really care.

He sighed and scratched his eyebrow absently.

The remnants of the memory – dream, vision? – played back and forth before his eyes. He didn't care enough to pay attention to whatever subject the teacher was droning endlessly on about, but instead let his mind wander back to what he had seen.

Had it been real?

It certainly seemed real. He could still feel Isabel – no, _Vilandra's_ – hand in his own as they raced through the trees, he could still see the mischievous wonder in Ava's eyes as the sky exploded into color.

Was that Antar? Was that what their life had been like when they were younger, before the war? Before Khivar? Had it been sneaking out of their bedrooms late at night and meeting in secret? He'd felt no particular romantic notions for Vilandra, but there had been an underlying sense of… something. Some kind of bond that existed, not just with her, but with all of them.

The vision was slowly fading, and he closed his eyes and tried to cling to it. It seemed so… peaceful.

Was that the way their lives were supposed to be?

The bell rang, signaling the end of class and interrupting his thoughts. He groaned and rose to his feet, cramming his textbooks back into his backpack and making a mental note to ask someone what exactly he had missed while he had been daydreaming.

Or remembering.

In the hallway, he paid only cursory attention to the throng of students. Most of them were smart enough to scramble out of his way if he glared firmly enough, and he thought with a faintly ironic smile that Tess was really rubbing off on him.

He turned the corner, and nearly walked into Max and Maria.

And whatever they were arguing about.

"…don't see why you keep acting like this isn't your fault. Like you don't miss her!" Maria hissed.

Max looked around warily, scanning the hallway, before saying, "She made her choice."

"Right," Maria drawled. "And you didn't push her along at all? You didn't practically force her to make that choice?"

"I didn't force her to do anything!" Max snapped. His raised voice garnered some attention from the passing students, and he looked down quickly.

Michael ran a hand through his hair and debated the pros and cons of interrupting the conversation.

"God, Max. Would you get over yourself?" Maria hissed. "You're too caught up in being angry at Liz to realize that you're really just being a complete jerk."

"Oh, I'm being a complete jerk?" Max echoed, rolling his eyes. "And what about Liz? She made a choice last spring, Maria."

"We all made choices last spring, Max," Maria answered firmly. She turned away from him at that moment and caught sight of Michael. The annoyance in her expression faded, replaced by a bright smile.

Michael smiled in response, but underneath, he was a little uneasy. Clearly, he was about to get dragged into an argument that he didn't really want to be part of.

"Tell Max he's being a jerk," Maria said hotly.

"Maxwell, you're being a jerk," Michael repeated dutifully.

"Tell Maria she's being completely unreasonable!" Max spat.

"Maria, you're being completely unreasonable," Michael said.

"You're not helping this any," Maria accused, glaring at him.

Michael shrugged. "Not really trying to help any," he answered. "You guys can continue to yell at each other all you want. Although, at least have enough common sense not to do it in the hallway where anyone can hear you."

Maria huffed impatiently. "Whatever. Are we still meeting up at the Crashdown after school?"

Michael opened his mouth to answer, but then caught sight of Isabel at the other end of the hall. Without really thinking about what he was saying, he answered, "I can't. Sorry. Change of plans."

"Change of plans?" Maria echoed.

He glanced down at her. "Yeah. Sorry, I just… something came up. There's something I need to do this afternoon. What about for dinner? Or tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Sure. Tomorrow. Great," Maria grumbled.

Michael stared at her for a moment, wanting to say more. But there didn't seem to be much he could say, and after a few moments of floundering for the right words, he gave a little half-shrug instead. He liked spending time with Maria, he wanted to spend time with Maria, but…

But he really needed to talk to Isabel.

Isabel looked up at that exact moment and caught his eye, offered a tentative smile. He smiled in return, but then Trudy appeared at Isabel's shoulder, distracting the hybrid Princess. Michael watched as the two girls turned and walked away from him.

The vision still played through his mind. He remembered what it felt like, to have the four of them together. To be conspirators, even if it was only in sneaking out of the palace and watching fireworks. He could still see Vialndra's expression, torn between annoyance at his secrecy and excitement at the possibilities of what she was about to see. And his own amusement at her, at her reactions. She'd been his family.

Isabel had been his family.

Had he somehow forgotten that?

"Michael?" Maria asked, looking confused by his lack of attention.

"Yeah. I… I got to get to class. I'll see you guys later," he said finally, nodding to both Maria and Max, before turning and heading towards his next class.

"Ugh… this sucks," Maria muttered.

"Why don't you just spend the afternoon talking to Liz instead?" Max said bitingly. "I'm sure you have a lot to tell her about how much of a jerk I am."

"If you wouldn't be such a jerk…" Maria started.

"If you two would stop acting like you're both absolutely perfect," Max retorted. "Like you didn't do anything wrong. Like you didn't end up hurting us, too!"

Maria grabbed Max's arm and dragged him to the nearest empty room, which turned out to be the Eraser Room. Max had only time for a fleeting thought that he really hoped this didn't start a new set of rumors, and then Maria was practically yelling at him.

"Do you really think Liz hurt you just to be vindictive?" Maria asked, folding her arms over her chest. "Max, I get that you were upset with us and everything that happened. But Alex was dying and he's our best friend, and you have got to get it through your thick skull that we cared more about saving him than about your…"  
"What? Our safety? You and Liz could have exposed us, Maria. Rushing off to Las Cruces like that, without even thinking," Max snarled. "Or did you not care about that? Since you'd already figured we were responsible for Jim's death and Alex being in a coma, I guess it didn't really matter if we ended up in the white room?"

"At least we were doing something!" Maria argued, her face flushed darkly "And… God, Max. It's not like you've never been a jerk to Liz. Or did you suddenly forget your whole little saga as Zan? Because I seem to recall you casually dismissing her, treating her like she was beneath you, constantly pushing her away, putting her down, trampling all over her feelings. And what did she do? Oh, right… she fought to keep you. She fought to _help_ you. She didn't just give up on your relationship. She didn't just give up on you!"

Without another word, Maria turned and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

Alex glanced around the Crashdown for a moment before his gaze settled on Maria, sitting by herself in a booth and looking glum. With a concerned frown, he crossed quickly to where she was and slid into the seat opposite her.

"You look unhappy."

Maria shrugged. "Just bored. I was suppose to meet Michael but he had to cancel."

"Did he say why?" Alex asked curiously. Over the past couple months, Michael and Maria had been practically inseparable. Certainly that was something that Isabel had commented on more than once – and usually rather bitterly – and even Liz had noted in passing, albeit with a more cheerful tone.

Maria shook her head. "No. He just came up to me at the end of the day as we were leaving school and said he couldn't hang today and he'd see my tomorrow. And then he just left."

She slumped over, resting her chin on the palm of one hand. Something else was clearly bothering her, something more than Michael's sudden disappearance. But Alex couldn't tell what it was, and wasn't sure how to ask.

Maria saved him the trouble of having to think up the right words, however, when she said, "And it's weird, because bailing on me is exactly the sort of thing Michael would have done in the past and it wouldn't have been a big deal at all."

Alex fought to keep a straight face at those words, because no matter how much Maria wanted to pretend like Michael's less-than-ideal status as a boyfriend hadn't annoyed her before, he remembered very clearly the numerous times she'd been more than just a little aggravated by whatever Michael had done.

He rubbed the back of his head absently and looked around the diner again. It was pretty empty, and he didn't recognize the waitress who was working. No doubt some college student looking to earn a little extra money. Mr. Parker had been forced to hire a couple new people when Liz left.

"I think… I don't know. It's just… odd," Maria muttered.

The conversation was quite a bit unlike most conversations he had with the abrasive blonde, and Alex felt wrong-footed. He looked back at her, struggling for something to say.

"You guys always bickered. It was just… I don't know, it's what you did. So you're back to bickering again. It's not a big deal."

"I know," Maria grumbled. "But it feels like it is. You know?"

Alex didn't answer. Maria wasn't looking at him anymore, and didn't seem to be waiting for any kind of response.

Isabel had told him that he didn't understand how bad it had been for the group during the time he was in a coma. And when she'd said those words, he hadn't really understood, hadn't fully grasped their meaning. After all, he'd been in a coma, he'd nearly died, and he had his own set of nightmares to deal with. But staring at Maria, he had to admit that Isabel had a point.

Things had changed so much, his friends had changed, and he hadn't been awake to see it.

Maria and Michael weren't even bickering. In fact, as far as Alex could tell, Michael had actually had the common decency to tell Maria ahead of time that he couldn't keep their date. How could this bother Maria so much when they were always arguing with each other last year? Even when they were perfectly happy they still found things to argue about. That was the kind of relationship they had.

But he hadn't seen them argue much over the summer. Michael had continually put Maria first, and Maria had gone out of her way to be supportive of Michael at every moment.

Isabel had commented about that, too.

"Do you think…" Maria started, and then stopped. She switched her gaze back to Alex, studied him for a long moment. "Do you think I'm losing myself? Do you think Michael and I are becoming… _Michael and Maria_? Like… a single entity."

"I don't know," Alex answered honestly. "Are you?"

Maria chewed her lip and didn't answer.

* * *

Isabel glanced up in surprise as Michael appeared in the doorway of her bedroom. Her first thought was that they were under attack, and she tensed automatically, expecting the worse. But when Michael just gave her a smile and closed the door quietly behind him, she relaxed.

Clearly, the world was not ending.

Yet.

"Hey," she said, pushing herself to the edge of her bed. "Max isn't home."

"Yeah. I was looking for you, actually. Your Mom said you were up here," Michael answered.

Isabel sighed and nodded slightly, glancing past him to the door. She hated this, this feeling of being stuck in limbo with her parents. They couldn't undo the past, but they couldn't seem to move forward, either. They were rotating around each other in parallel paths that they were so careful not to let intersect. As though any communication might end in a disaster.

Which, to be fair, was not an unreasonable concern. With her parents, most conversations did turn into arguments.

She gestured to the papers spread out on her bed. "Trying to work on the personal statement for my college applications. Trying to figure out where I want to go to college." She hesitated, then added, "Trying to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life."

Michael simply stared at her, and though he said nothing, she could tell what he was thinking. She could tell he was wondering if they would actually have a future.

"Max has been really moody today," she said after an awkward lull in the conversation. "I mean… more than usual. Do you know what happened?"

"Yeah. He and Maria got into an argument."

"About?"

"Liz."

"Oh." She didn't really want to think about it. It was hard, really. Too hard. Thoughts of Liz just brought up anger and frustration and guilt and a thousand other emotions she was trying her best to move past. It was almost easier to not have the brunette around, although she could tell how miserable it was making Max.

Everyone could see how miserable it was making Max, how much he missed her. Everyone except, apparently, for Max.

Again, there was a silence, and Isabel wasn't sure what to say. It didn't really seem fair; Michael had come to visit her, so shouldn't he be the one attempting to keep up the conversation?

Michael cleared his throat. "We got really screwed up, didn't we?"

Isabel's eyes widened, and then she laughed. It started out as a chuckle, and then, somehow, she had doubled over and was clutching her sides, laughing so hard that tears streamed down her face. It wasn't even that funny of a statement, but the way Michael had said it, bluntly and without much emotion…

_Of course_ they had gotten really screwed up. Was he only realizing this now? Where had he been for the _entire_ summer?

After a while, her own laughter faded, and she realized that Michael was grinning self-consciously, looking a little bemused by her reaction.

She wiped away the tears with the back of one hand and said dryly, "Yeah. I guess we did."

"Izzy… I'm sorry. If I ever made you feel like you weren't family," Michael said quietly, sitting down next to her on the bed. "If I ever made you feel like I didn't care about you anymore, like you weren't as important as…"  
"Maria," Isabel supplied when Michael didn't finish the statement.

"Yeah." He scratched his eyebrow. "I mean… I was mad. Really mad. And when you kept trying to explain what you had done and why… and when you kept apologizing… I was too busy being angry to really listen. But… You're family. You know that nothing will ever change that, right?"

Isabel nodded. "I know. But if you don't mind me asking, what brought about this… uh… revelation of yours?" She grinned teasingly, "It's kind of sappy."

He glared at her. She giggled in response.

"It is," she defended herself. "It's very unlike your normal, unemotional self."

"Unemotional?" Michael protested. "I am not unemotional."

Isabel's eyebrows rose into her hairline. "Really? Because half the time, I think you don't even _have_ emotions."

He leaned back and grabbed the pillow, then hit her across the face with it. She dissolved into laughter, and yanked the pillow from his grip.

"If I had known there would be a pillow fight, I would have come prepared," a voice said from the doorway.

Alex was standing there, a few books in his arms, a wary expression in his gaze. His eyes moved from Isabel's face to Michael's hands, both of which were resting on Isabel's arms. Michael, following Alex's gaze, yanked his hands back as though he'd been burned.

Isabel shifted uncomfortably, then said, "Michael was just being girly."

"Well, I'm sorry I missed that," Alex said thoughtfully, frowning at Michael. "It's one of those things I'd have to see to believe."

Michael rose to his feet. "No need to be jealous," he said with an almost predatory grin. "I'm just stealing your girlfriend away from you."

"Oh, is that all?" Alex quipped. "And does Maria know? After all, it appears you did bail on your date with her to… uh… hang out with Isabel."

"You bailed on your date with Maria?" Isabel asked, surprised. She hadn't expected that. Although Michael was obviously trying to make some effort to repair the damage to their relationship, she still would have assumed that anything Maria wanted came first. Just like it had over the summer.

Oh, God, she really was jealous.

"It wasn't a date. It was just… plans to meet up," Michael argued. "And hang out. Together."

"And how is that different from a date?" Alex asked curiously.

"A date requires looking nice and dressing up and going somewhere," Michael explained patiently, as though it should be obvious.

Alex was smirking.

Michael rolled his eyes. "Well, I will leave you two to… _study_." He gave Isabel a suggestive wink and she glared at him in response. That only made his smile widen.

After Michael had gone, Alex took the seat next to Isabel on the bed and asked tentatively, "What was that all about?"

"Nothing," Isabel said. "Just… working through some issues." She studied his expression for a moment, then said softly, "You know that Michael and I are just friends."

"Yeah, I know," Alex hurried to assure her. "I was just surprised to see him here because I know you two haven't really… I mean… things have been strained between you two for a while. Although you did say it was getting better, so…" He stumbled over his words, cheeks flushed lightly.

"It is getting better," Isabel said. "Nothing like imminent war and probable death to make you get past all your personal issues."

"Yeah…" They were both quiet for a moment, then Alex changed the subject and asked, "How is your personal statement coming along?"

"I have no idea," Isabel grumbled. "How about you? Any ideas yet where you are going to apply?"

"Tech programs. I want to do something in computer science," Alex said without any hesitation. "But… well, I was thinking if you knew where you wanted to go, then maybe… maybe we could apply to schools in the same area. You know… if you want…"

Isabel blinked a few times, realizing the subtext underneath those words. He was asking if she still wanted to be with him once the alien war was over.

Assuming they weren't dead.

She smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

* * *

Next Chapter: Beyond the War

Due: Sun 12/12


	16. Beyond the War

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: Beyond the War

"I just don't get the point of this," Michael said for what felt like the millionth time.

Tess glanced up from the book she was reading and shrugged. "We're seniors in high school, Michael. It's what we do. It's what normal people do. I think."

"Yes, because you know so much about normal," Isabel muttered under her breath.

Tess sent her a frosty glare, but did not reply to the comment. Instead, she turned her gaze back to the book, although not before slanting an amused look at Alex, who was frowning thoughtfully as though actually trying to figure out how to explain the relevance of this particular event to Michael.

It was lunch, and they were sitting at a picnic table in the quad. Tess was attempting to get caught up on her English reading – after pretty much ignoring class for the past several days she was rather behind – and although she'd begrudgingly agreed to have Isabel and Alex join her, she hadn't looked to please by Michael's appearance.

Isabel had sniped that she was just worried being seen with Michael would ruin her reputation.

"This is stupid," Michael grouched.

"All you have to do it talk to the guidance counselor for ten minutes," Isabel protested. "It's not like the world is going to end. I think you can bear Mr. Loggers' company for that long."

"I still think he could be FBI," Michael retorted.

"I still think you're an idiot," Tess said, tearing her eyes away from her book just long enough to give Michael a pointed smirk.

Michael scowled.

"We're seniors in high school, Michael," Isabel said in a tone of rapidly disappearing patience. "We have to apply to college, we have to figure out what we want to do with the rest of our lives. Mr. Loggers is going to help us with that."

"I know what I'm doing with the rest of my life," Michael replied, lowering his voice to make sure he couldn't be overheard by anyone else. "I'm going to fight a war. And I don't need help preparing for that. At least not from Mr. Loggers."

"We won't be fighting this war forever," Isabel said quietly.

Tess slanted a quick look at her friend. It was clear from her apprehensive expression that Isabel very much did not want to believe that their entire future would be tangled up in this intergalactic mess. Tess understood the feeling; she, too, wanted to believe that they would be able to do something else with their lives.

She just wasn't sure that it was a particularly realistic wish.

Michael seemed to agree with Tess' skepticism, but Alex was nodding his head in support of what Isabel had said.

"She's right, you know. There will be a future after the war. We have to figure out what we want to do with it."

"The Royalists want us to return to Antar and rule the planet," Michael pointed out. "So, assuming we don't all die in the next few months…"

"We're not going to die," Isabel said shrilly.

"Keep your voice down," Tess hissed as she noticed a few other students look over at them, curious about Isabel's comment.

"We don't know how to rule a planet," Isabel said after a moment, her voice much softer. Her eyes darted around nervously, then she added, "We don't even know how to fight a war. I mean… really. Michael's practicing blowing up rocks, Max is working on his force-fields, but so what? We're going to need more than that. And how am I going to be any help, either? I don't think dream-walking the enemy is going to do much good."

"Wow, this conversation got really depressing really quickly," Tess murmured.

"Well, it's not like I'm saying anything that isn't true," Isabel answered. "We spend all this time in school, learning things that aren't going to help us and…"

"You're the one who just said that we all had a future after the war," Michael argued.

Before the conversation could continue, a figure approached. Michael and Isabel quickly lapsed into silence, and Tess's eyes lit up happily.

"Chris."

Chris paused at the table and looked at them. "Got room for your dutiful boyfriend?" he asked with a grin.

Tess moved over a bit, and he sat down next to her, pulling his lunch out of his backpack. He nodded somewhat politely to Michael and Alex, and said, "Guerin. Whitman."

Michael ignored him, but Alex said, "Hey, Chris."

Sensing the tension, Chris asked, "Did I interrupt something?"

"No," Tess replied before anyone else could answer. "We're just talking about the future. And the mandatory meetings we all have with the guidance counselor. And how pointless it all is."

"I think Mr. Loggers is supposed to help us figure out what we want to do with our lives," Chris said.

"Yeah. We meet with him for ten or fifteen minutes and then we're supposed to know what we're going to spend the next several decades doing," Isabel said sarcastically.

"Okay, seriously," Tess turned to her, eyes narrowed, "When did you become so bipolar? One minute you think this is a great idea and we should all be planning our futures and the next minute none of us have a future and the whole thing is a waste of time. Make up your mind already."

"Ignore her," Michael advised Isabel. "She's just having a bad day."

"When does Tess ever have a good day?" Isabel replied with a shrug.

Without pausing, Tess reached over and flicked two fingers against the water bottle Isabel was holding, causing the taller hybrid to drop it in surprise. Water splashed all over Isabel's clothes, drenching the front of her outfit. Isabel sputtered in indignation, but Michael and Alex both bit back laughs. Neither were quick enough, forever, and Isabel reached across the table and lightly slapped both of them.

"_Now_ I'm having a better day," Tess said.

Chris draped his arm over her shoulder. "See, this is what I like about you. You always know how to turn a frown upside-down."

Tess offered him a sweet smile. "You have to learn to look for the silver lining."

Isabel rose to her feet in a huff and said, "You are so infuriating." Then she turned on her heel and marched away, most likely to go some place private so she could use her gifts to dry her clothes.

Alex quickly gathered up his things. "I'm just going to…" he trailed off and gestured towards Isabel.

"Run after your girlfriend so she doesn't break up with you for laughing at her?" Michael suggested.

Alex frowned. "Where's your girlfriend?" he shot back. "I heard Maria decided to get caught up on some extra work during lunch instead of eating with you."

Tess studied Alex for a moment in thoughtful silence. It was, of course, a good point. She was vaguely aware of the fact that Michael and Maria didn't seem to be hanging out quite as much as they used to. At least they weren't attached at the hip anymore, which was quite a change from what had happened over the summer.

But that wasn't what was occupying most of her thoughts. She was instead thinking about Alex, about how much he had changed. He seemed to have more confidence now, and interacted with them all differently. Isabel had mentioned once or twice that her relationship with Alex had changed, but it was clear that it wasn't just Isabel who was experiencing this new version of their friend.

The old Alex wouldn't have retorted quite so quickly or so bluntly to Michael, wouldn't have kept the argument going. The old Alex wouldn't have brought up Maria, probably wouldn't have said anything at all. Certainly wouldn't have said something to make Michael quite as speechless.

Tess decided with a satisfied nod that she liked this newer Alex quite a bit.

"I… well…" Michael started, clearly not sure how to finish.

"It's generally not a good sign when your girlfriend would rather spend her free lunch working on homework than hanging out with you," Chris agreed.

"Did you guys have a fight?" Tess asked, now intrigued despite herself.

Michael furrowed his eyebrows. "No. I mean… I don't think so. I don't _remember_ fighting. And if we were fighting, I think I would know."

"Yes," Alex drawled. "I'm sure Maria would have informed you of that."

"It's also generally not a good sign when you don't know whether or not your girlfriend is mad at you," Chris added.

Tess laughed.

* * *

"I have no idea what I want to do with my life," Maria announced as she took the seat across from Mr. Loggers. "I have no skills. Can you just write that down and we can be done with this?"

"I seriously doubt that you have no skills," Mr. Loggers replied. He did not seem at all surprised by Maria's words or her slightly hostile attitude, and the blonde couldn't help but wonder if he was used to teenagers not wanting to tell him their dreams for the future.

"Well… I make a pretty good waitress," Maria said sarcastically. "Does that count?"

"Why don't you start by telling me what your dream job would be," the guidance counselor prompted.

"I don't know," Maria said. "I… I don't know."

"What do you like to do in your spare time?"

Maria frowned. Somehow, she didn't think _saving the world_ counted as a viable answer. But given that her spare time was usually filled with some kind of alien crisis, what else was she supposed to say?

Finally, she shrugged and answered, "I don't know. I guess I like art. You know… like singing or… or stuff like that. I don't really get a chance to do it much, though."

"But you're creative," Mr. Loggers said, nodding thoughtfully. "That's a start. Where do you see yourself in ten years?"

"In ten years, we could all be dead," Maria said flatly.

Mr. Loggers appeared slightly startled by that answer, but he said calmly, "Is this about Jim Valenti?"

Maria looked away quickly. She honestly hadn't been thinking about Valenti when she made the off-hand remark. She'd been thinking about the Royalist army and the skins and the fact that they were facing a real war and she had no idea if they would survive any of it.

But she couldn't explain that to Mr. Loggers.

"He was dating my mother," she said finally. "And Alex is one of my best friends. And the car accident…"

"Was tragic," Mr. Loggers supplied. "And horrible. And you have every reason and every right to grieve. But you have a future, Maria. You're a smart kid with decent grades and good friends. I doubt the Sheriff would have wanted you to blow all of that."

"Is this the part of the conversation where I burst into tears and tell you that you're right and I can't believe I ever thought about throwing my life away?" Maria said skeptically.

Mr. Loggers leaned back in his seat. "No. This is the part of the conversation where you tell me what you want to do with your life. Really, truly. Where do you want to be in ten years?"

Maria hesitated. "I want to be happy," she said. "I don't care about the rest of it. I just want to be happy, and I want the people that I love to be happy, too."

* * *

"I have no future. Everyone agrees. So can we not do this and just pretend that we did?" Michael asked as he took the seat across from Mr. Loggers.

"Who is _everyone_?" Mr. Loggers asked.

Michael shrugged. "You know. Everyone. The entire world."

"I sincerely doubt that everyone thinks you have no future," Mr. Loggers argued. "You are quite close to Max and Isabel Evans, aren't you? And their parents?" Michael nodded, and the guidance counselor continued, "Do they think you have no future?"

"I could work at the Crashdown for the rest of my life," Michael suggested. "Or Burger King."

"Perhaps you could aim a little bit higher," Mr. Loggers said. "Where do you want to go to college?"

"Why would I want to go to college?"

Mr. Loggers leaned forward. "Did you have a different career path in mind?"

Michael shrugged. "No. I don't have a career path at all."

"What do you want to do with your life?" Mr. Loggers asked.

"Does it matter?"

"It matters to me," Mr. Loggers said, "and it should matter to you." Michael glowered, and Mr. Loggers added, "I seem to recall that you're friendly with Maria and Amy DeLuca as well. Do they think you have no future?"

Michael scratched his eyebrow absently. Amy hadn't liked him in the beginning, but that had all changed at the end of last year. He was pretty certain that she actually cared for him quite a bit now. What would she say about his future?

And why did it matter?

He glanced down at the floor. He knew what his future would look like. He didn't need to go through this pointless exercise because the rest of his life had already been decided for him. He couldn't escape the past, no matter how much he might want to. And his past life was now dictating that his future would revolve around war.

"Where do you see yourself in ten years?" Mr. Loggers asked.

Michael sighed. "I don't know. In the army?"

* * *

"My plan is to become a famous supermodel or actress, or possibly just marry someone wealthy. Either way, I'll end up with a whole bunch of money and not have to ever work," Isabel said bluntly as she took the seat across from Mr. Loggers.

Mr. Loggers smiled a bit benevolently. Isabel wondered vaguely if he had heard that statement before.

"Does the idea of working bother you so much?"

Isabel shrugged and folded her arms across her chest. "Why work if I don't have to?" she asked.

"Well, won't you get bored?" Mr. Loggers asked curiously.

"No," Isabel replied without pausing to think. After the past two years, she would be fine never doing anything ever again. How could she get bored when all she wanted was an escape from reality?

They were both silent for a moment. Mr. Loggers was staring at her, studying her expressions carefully. She wondered what he was looking for her in her face, and she wondered if he had found it.

"What do you value in your life?" Mr. Loggers asked.

"What do I value?" she repeated. "What do you mean?"

"What do you value? What do you cherish? Money? Fame? Family?"

"Family," she said quickly, automatically. "And my friends."

"You would like to be close to your family in the future? And to have a lot of friends?" Mr. Loggers prompted, gesturing for her to continue.

Isabel frowned, sensing that they were slowly moving away from her earlier statement of wanting to be a famous supermodel. She chewed her lip, but said truthfully, "I think so. I mean… I love my family. They're the most important thing in the world to me. I don't want to…"

"To what? What don't you want to do?"

She hesitated, trying to find the right words to answer that question. She didn't want to hurt her family. She didn't want to betray them, she didn't want to get them killed like she had in a past life. But how could she say that? How could she explain any of it to him when she couldn't tell him the underlying truth that she wasn't human?

She looked away, over towards the window.

"Do your parents put a lot of pressure on you to do well in school and go to a good college?" Mr. Loggers asked.

Isabel shrugged. "Not really. I mean, they want what is best for me, but they don't ever really pressure me to do things. I guess I do most of that on my own initiative."

He looked down at some papers on his desk. "You have good grades, you have some extracurricular activities, teachers always seem to have good things to say about you. You seem to already be on a path, Isabel. You seem to have some idea of where you are going. Have you thought about which colleges to apply to?"

She nodded slowly. "I'm still deciding, but I have a few ideas. I really like some of the schools on the East Coast or in Chicago, but it would be so far away from my parents and… and, well… I don't know where Max is going to go. Or Alex."

"But you want to be close to your family? And to your boyfriend?"

"Yes."

"That is quite a contrast to wanting to be a supermodel or actress," Mr. Loggers pointed out. "A jet-setting career might be at odds with your desire for family and stability." Isabel didn't say anything, and he added, "Think about who you are and what's important in your life. And don't forget, there is nothing wrong with wanting to be normal."

She forced a smile but did not respond. How could she tell him that there _was_ something wrong with wanting to be normal when she knew it was a wish that could never come true?

* * *

Max said nothing at all, just glared in silence at Mr. Loggers as he took the offered chair across from the guidance counselor. Mr. Loggers did not seem surprised by this, nor did he seem particularly concerned. He pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, prepared to take notes.

"So, tell me, Max, have you thought at all about college?"

"I know it is time to start applying," Max said with a half-hearted shrug. "I know I need to take the SATs and that sort of thing."

"And have you started studying for the SATs? Have you picked a college to apply to?"

"Not really," Max answered. Because he had been spending most of his spare time in the desert, practicing his gifts, honing his talents. He didn't have time to waste planning a future he might not have.

But just as that thought occurred to him, he wondered with an inward sigh when he had become so fatalistic. When had they _all_ become so despondent about the future?

"I know it is a hard place to be," Mr. Loggers said patiently, scribbling a few notes on his pad. "A senior in high school. You feel like the entire world is open to you. All those choices, all those possibilities… it is exciting. And terrifying. You can't help but wonder what will happen if you make the wrong choice. You wonder if it will ruin your life."

"You have _no_ idea," Max muttered under his breath.

"Are you having a hard time in your life right now?" Mr. Loggers asked gently. "You seem a little… moody. And the notes I have from other teachers indicate that you are usually a bit more upbeat."

"No. No, I'm fine," Max said stoutly.

"You know, we often convince ourselves that we're fine even when we're not. And you can only lie to yourself for so long. Sooner or later, the problems will become too much to ignore." The guidance counselor paused, then added, "You know, it is not unusual for adopted kids to go through tough times right around now. Identity issues and all that."

Max narrowed his eyes. "What does that have to do with college?" he demanded.

"It's hard to know where you want to go in your life if you aren't really sure who you are," Mr. Loggers answered. "Tell me something, Max. What did you want to be when you were little? When you were four or five years old… What were your dreams?"

Max paused and rubbed the back of his head absently with one hand. Obviously, Mr. Loggers didn't realize that he had been hatched at the age of six. But given that he couldn't say that, he drew his eyebrows together in concentration and tried to come up with a more suitable answer.

At last, he said with partial-honestly, "I don't really remember a whole lot before being adopted. I was six when I was adopted, so… I don't know. I'm not sure what my dreams were at four or five."

Mr. Loggers looked instantly sympathetic, and scribbled this down on his pad of paper. "I'm sorry, Max, I had no idea." He tapped his pen against the paper and looked up thoughtfully. "What did you want to be when you were six or seven?"

Again, Max paused, feeling uncomfortable. "I never really spent a lot of time thinking about it. When I was a kid, I guess… I was just content to be a kid. Live in the moment. That sort of thing."

"I see," Mr. Loggers said.

"I was happy then," Max defended himself. "Why would I dream about anything different when I was happy with the way things were?"

"And are you happy now?"

Max thought of Liz. "I don't know."

* * *

It wasn't quite like what she had expected.

Although, in all honestly, Liz hadn't really had expectations when she started this. Filling out the application, signing up for boarding school… it had all been so surreal at the time. Now that she was actually here, now that she had been here for several days, the reality of it was starting to kick in.

The first meeting with the Dean had gone well, and the rather severe older woman had presented a list or rules that far exceeded anything Liz's parents had ever set for her.

"_We have very strict rules here at Winnaman. Probably a much more disciplined atmosphere then you are used to," the Dean said brusquely, handing Liz a pamphlet filled with prohibitions. "Curfew is at nine o'clock. No boys allowed on campus. There will be no smoking, no drinking, and drugs will not be tolerated. And we do expect these rules to be followed."_

"_Good. Rules are exactly what I need right now," Liz answered, accepting the list and glancing quickly at it. She was discipline, she wanted something where it was easy to tell the difference between right and wrong. She wanted normalcy, and to be as far away from Roswell as possible._

_And it seemed as though she was going to get all of those things._

The next meeting had been with her roommate Eileen Burrows, and that had started out a bit awkwardly. Eileen was a talkative girl who reminded Liz quite a bit of Maria. But she was even more abrasive and brash than the blonde waitress, and had no discipline whatsoever. She viewed the school as some kind of prison, and the rules as inconveniences to be broken whenever possible.

It wasn't quite what Liz was looking for, but she had promised herself to do whatever was necessary to make this boarding school her home for the next year, and that meant finding a way to get along with Eileen.

She'd told Eileen that she went by Beth and her family was from California. The lies had just slipped out, and some part of her had been relieved. At least for the moment, she was ready to be someone besides Liz Parker.

Of course, ever since being friends with the aliens, lying had become easier and easier, and at some point, it had become second-nature. A habit that had come in handy during her first night at the school.

_Eileen was sitting on her bed, smoking. She watched Liz with something resembling a smirk, almost as though she was daring Liz to comment on the cigarette. It unnerved Liz, and she did her best to concentrate on the book she was reading. Eileen had been at the school since ninth grade and apparently decided she had every right to smoke in the dorm room despite Liz's objections._

_Finally, Liz shut her book and looked over at Eileen._

_The girl smiled. "Is this making you uncomfortable?" she asked, twirling the cigarette in between two fingers._

"_You know, to tell the truth, it is," Liz said. "I don't really want to get in trouble on my first night here."_

_Eileen laughed. "It was a rhetorical question. I'm not putting it out."_

"_Then why did you ask?" Liz demanded, feeling slightly irritated._

"_I was being polite," Eileen answered with a shrug._

_Liz was saved from having to respond by a knock at the door. Both girls glanced towards the sound, and Liz called out, "Who is it?"_

"_Dean Hawkins," came the response, slightly muffled by the heavy wood._

_Liz slanted a worried look at Eileen. The other girl was already rushing about, trying to get rid of the evidence. She put out her cigarette and grabbed a can of air freshener that was half-hidden under her bed. Spraying the room, however, did not get rid of all of the smell. A faint scent of smoke lingered, threatening to expose them._

"_Just a second," Liz called. It wasn't a life or death situation, not like the ones she had faced back in Roswell, and yet it didn't even occur to her to just allow the Dean to find out the truth. Instead, her mind was already frantically working on an explanation. "Just… one second… I'm changing my clothes… sorry, I'll be right there…"_

_She snatched a candle from Eileen's desk, then grabbed the lighter from beside Eileen's bed. Lighting the candle, she set it down on her own desk just as the Dean knocked again._

"_Coming, coming," Liz called. And she pulled open the door._

_The Dean glanced around once, eyes narrowing. "Do I smell smoke?" she asked in a threatening voice._

"_I lit a candle," Liz explained, gesturing towards the candle burning on her desk. "Is that allowed?"_

"_Of course," the Dean answered, looking a bit put out not have caught them doing something against the rules. She shoved a stack of papers at Liz. "I forgot to give these to you earlier. Fill them out and return them to me in the morning."_

"_Yes, ma'am," Liz murmured._

_After the Dean had left, Eileen gave Liz a once-over with a more appreciative stare. "Maybe you're not so bad after all," she conceded._

She'd grown to tolerate Eileen, and occasionally the other girl could be amusing. It wasn't the same as having Alex or Maria around, but now that she was several days into the school year, it was starting to feel a bit more like she belonged here.

She'd meant a few other girls in her classes, and had formed a few tentative friendships. They talked about normal things – about boys and movies and schoolwork – and it often felt so incredibly boring.

Liz loved it.

Maggie, a tall, leggy blonde from Florida soon became her closest friend and sometimes confidant. It was hard, and Liz found herself often wishing she could explain more about Roswell, wishing she could admit to what had happened during the pat two years. But she couldn't, and any conversation about her past was filled with vague comments that lacked any details.

If Maggie noticed that, she did not comment on it.

She also didn't comment on the fact that occasionally Liz seemed a bit confused when people referred to her as Beth, even though she still continued to claim that it was her name.

Liz had told Maggie she didn't have a boyfriend, that she hadn't had one since the summer after her freshman year when she dated a football jock. And some part of her couldn't help but wonder what Max would think if he knew he'd been written out of her past.

But she thought about Max less and less. Maria and Alex still filled her thoughts, and she called them or wrote to them all the time. But the aliens… she slowly stopped thinking about them.

And instead, she started thinking about her future.

And now she found herself in a meeting with her guidance counselor, talking about Winnaman and the future.

"So, tell me Ms. Parker, are you liking school here?" the counselor, a petite woman by the name of Andrea Fogg, asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Fogg, I like it a lot," Liz answered honestly.

"You've had no trouble adjusting? I did notice that you have made a few friends which is always important," Mrs. Fogg continued. She had a kind smile and the kind of demeanor that made people want to tell her all their secrets, all their hopes and dreams.

Liz shook her head. "No trouble at all. I really like a lot of the girls here." She ran a hand through her hair, then added, "You know, I was really scared to come here. I mean… I wanted to get away from my home, away from this… chaos… that I left behind. But I was still afraid, and I didn't know if I was doing the right thing. But these past several days… it feels like the first time in a really long time that I've felt truly happy."

"This chaos that you left behind," Mrs. Fogg asked, "it hasn't followed you at all? You've managed to escape completely?" When Liz nodded, the guidance counselor continued, "I'm impressed. It isn't easy to let go of the past."

"No," Liz agreed, "it's not. But now I can finally start thinking about my future again."

"And what do you see in your future?"

"Molecular biology," Liz answered without any hesitation. Just a few months ago, she would not have known how to answer that question. She'd lost sight of her dreams as the alien war slowly took over her life. Now that she was away from that, now that she could think about science again, she couldn't believe she'd ever forgotten in the first place.

This was what she wanted her life to be like. A lab, experiments, writing papers… the tedious, the mundane… every single part of it. That was what she wanted.

"You seem very sure of yourself," Mrs. Fogg remarked. "I take it this has been a dream of yours for a while?"

Liz nodded. "The first time I walked into a chemistry lab, I just knew. There's this smell. The smell of sulfur. People say it smells horrible and maybe it does, but… I just _knew_. I knew I was home."

"And what else draws you to science? I mean, besides the smell?" Mrs. Fogg asked.

Liz leaned back in her chair. "The world is this incredibly mysterious place, and science is… it is this way of figuring it out. There are answers to everything. Facts. When you're conducting an experiment, you're in control."

"And you like to be in control," Mrs. Fogg said.

Liz thought over the past two years. "Yeah, I do," she said in a softer tone. "It's something that… got away from me… for a while. But… I like being able to find out answers. To know solutions. To not feel like…"

"Like you're drowning, and you have no idea how to swim?" Mrs. Fogg murmured.

Liz looked up, startled. "Yes. That's it. That's exactly it. Science feels like learning how to swim."

Mrs. Fogg nodded and gave Liz a contemplative look. "Indeed. Well, there are a lot of wonderful programs out there, Ms. Parker, for a budding young scientist like yourself. I can see you have the passion and the intellect necessary to survive in a scientific field. And that is wonderful. But I would like to caution you that sometimes you have to take life as it comes."

"What if I don't want to?" Liz asked curiously. "What if I have a plan and I want to stick to it?"

Mrs. Fogg laughed gently. "Oh, my dear. Sometimes you simply do not have that choice."

* * *

Next Chapter: Fall to Pieces

Due: Wed 12/15


	17. Fall to Pieces

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: So, I don't usually decide to just give something away in an Author's note, but I've been debating saying this ever since I introduced Mr. Loggers. And I think I do want to say it, just so that you guys don't focus too much on looking for evil where there isn't any... Mr. Loggers actually is a guidance counselor. I don't know about other high schools, but mine had a guidance counselor that we were all required to meet with during or senior year to discuss our plans for the future, and Mr. Loggers is based on that. So... he's not a villain, and he's not FBI. He's actually, honestly, just a guidance counselor.

But don't worry, there is real, actual evil, and it gets introduced in this chapter...

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Seventeen: Fall to Pieces

The room was barely lit.

It wasn't exactly a room, but more like some sort of large hallway. One long wall had windows draped with light black curtains. The windows must have been open, because a cool breeze swept through the hallway, rustling the curtains. The floor was smooth and polished, some kind of black marble that faintly reflected the dim light of the chandeliers above.

Isabel looked around in confusion, then down at herself. She was surprised to find that she was dressed in a deep red evening gown that hugged every curve of her body. Her shoes were red stilettos, and matched her dress. Something heavy rested on her throat, and she reached her fingers up to touch a choker of silver and rubies.

Something was very wrong.

"You look beautiful."

She spun around. There was a man standing near one of the windows, half-hidden by the black curtain. She could see his silhouette through the thin cloth. He was tall and muscular, and when he stepped towards her, into the faint light of the chandeliers, she saw that he was quite handsome.

He projected an aura of confidence and power. There was something about his eyes – they managed to combine a predatory stare with warmth and compassion. She knew instinctively that he could be deceptively kind.

She knew instinctively that he was dangerous.

He walked towards her, extending one hand. His palm glowed for a moment, and then a white flower appeared, petals opening slowly. He lifted the stem in his fingers and presented it to her.

"A beautiful flower for a beautiful woman."

She took the flower, her arm moving of its own accord. Her mind screamed at her to back away, but she couldn't. Something was holding her in place. Something deep inside her _wanted_ to be there, and that scared her.

She looked down at the flower. It was a white lily. The inside of each petal was dotted with tiny red and pink specks that circled around the stamen and pistil.

"I believe the lily represents purity and innocence," he said. "That is what humans believe, is it not?"

She looked up at him again. His skin was smooth and tan, his lips were parted into a smile that revealed white teeth. His eyes were dark brown and they were staring at her with an intensity that could have swallowed her completely. She found it nearly impossible to tear her own gaze away from his face.

She forced herself to speak. "And is either of us innocent or pure, Khivar?"

He laughed. "I missed you."

"Missed me?" she repeated incredulously. "You _killed_ me."

He reached out and caught her arm. As his fingers brushed against her skin, she felt a crackle of electricity rush up her arm. Her heart started beating quickly, much too quickly, and her breath shorted to a gasp.

"And yet here you are, alive and well," Khivar answered. "Quite remarkable."

She yanked herself away from him, but his grip tightened on her arm, and he responded by pulling her closer, until she was practically pressed up against him. She lifted her free arm and placed it on his chest, her palm pressing hard to repel him.

This seemed only to amuse him.

"Do you remember that night at the palace?" Khivar asked in a low voice.

"What night?" Isabel demanded.

Khivar wrapped his other arm around her waste and suddenly dragged her all the way forward. She practically crashed into him, but he was holding her upright, and she was able to regain her footing. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "_That_ night."

"I don't…" she started, but he interrupted her.

"We met in the garden. You grabbed my hand and pulled me through the trees to the far wall. There was an empty room there, one that Rath and Zan had showed you. You told me that you used to watch the fireworks through the windows when you were younger. The four of you – Ava included – would sneak out past your parents and the guards and servants…"

Isabel shook her head, tried in vain to pull away. "I don't remember any of this."

"You took me to this room," Khivar continued. "You had argued with your brother that evening, and then with Rath, and you were upset. You were crying. And we were sitting on the floor, moonlight cascading in through one of the windows, the stones cold and damp. And I told you that I loved you…"

His voice was practically a pure. She felt some horrible thrill rush through her when she realized where this story was most likely heading. Tilting her head up, she could see the feral gleam in his eyes, and her own heart plummeted into her stomach.

"No…"

"And you said you loved me, too," Khivar continued. "And we… oh, what is that darling term you humans use… ah, yes, we _made love_. In the palace grounds. In the secret hideout that you and your other precious three Royals had discovered."

"_No_," she repeated defiantly.

He laughed callously. "So I suppose your earlier statement was correct. Neither of us are pure or innocent."

And without warning, he leaned down and kissed her. She didn't fight back, it didn't even occur to her to do so. Her body responded instinctively, her feet pushing her foreword to the tips of her toes, her arms coming up so that her hands could rest on his shoulders. His lips captured hers and…

She woke up screaming.

* * *

Diane and Philip practically collided in the hallway in their desperate attempt to reach their daughter's room, but Max, whose bedroom was closer, was ahead of them. He yanked open the door and stormed into her room, both hands glowing with energy he had conjured to fight off whoever was making his sister scream like that.

But as he quickly scanned the room, he realized that Isabel was alone.

She was sitting up in bed, her eyes wide, her face white. Her legs were pulled into her chest, and her arms wrapped around her knees. Her expression reflected pure terror.

"Isabel?" Max asked gently, moving slowly to her side, almost afraid to startle her. "What is it? What's wrong?"

He was dimly aware of his parents standing behind them, both worried and unsure what to do. This was clearly an alien problem, something that was far out of their league. But it was also their daughter, and he doubted they would leave the room just because they couldn't help.

Isabel turned and looked at Max. For a moment, her gaze was completely blank, as though she didn't recognize him. Or perhaps as though she didn't even see him.

Then she blinked and said in confusion, "Zan?"

"No," Max said, fear hardening in his stomach. "No, Isabel. It's Max."

She blinked again. "Max." Her eyes were clouded with confusion, but they cleared slightly. "Max." She looked past him, to their parents. "Oh… God…"

"Izzy?" Max prompted, feeling at least some relief that she knew who he was. "What happened? Izzy, come on. Talk to me." He sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for her to say something, to explain the fear, the screaming.

"He was in my head," Isabel muttered, her voice taking on a nearly hysterical quality as the words suddenly started tumbling out. "In my dreams. He got in somehow, and I couldn't get him out. I couldn't control it. He was there, and I just… I let him stay. I didn't… I wasn't able to… I wasn't strong enough…"

Her train of thoughts soon lost its coherence, but it didn't matter to Max. He knew enough to figure out what had happened, but he didn't want to believe it. _Wouldn't_ believe it, not until he got confirmation…

So with a great amount of trepidation, he asked, "Who?"

Isabel looked at him, eyes swimming with tears. "Khivar."

And she broke down into sobs.

For a moment, Max had no idea what to do. He sat there, utterly frozen, as his sister cried. His mind felt sluggish and he just didn't know what to do, didn't know how to comfort her. What could he say, how could he make this better? Sobbing girls were not exactly his strong point.

Before he could think up what to say, however, he found himself pushed suddenly aside, and his mother was there, sliding onto the bed between him and Isabel. Apparently being a mother had some advantages, and one of them seemed to be knowing what to do in a moment like this.

Diane wrapped her arms around Isabel and held her tightly. Isabel leaned into her mother, resting her head on Diane's shoulder. Diane said nothing, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was Isabel crying.

Then Philip asked, "Remind me again, which one is Khivar?"

Max ran a hand through his hair. "He's the leader of the aliens that want us dead," he answered dully. The whole thing seemed surreal – could he really be having this conversation with his parents? – but Isabel was most definitely crying and he didn't know what else to say. He doubted his parents would be content to leave and let him handle the situation.

And, anyway, his mother seemed a lot more adept at handling it than he was.

Isabel was slowly getting herself back under control, and she sat upright again and looked at Max.

"I think he's after me," she whispered.

Diane's arms tightened even more around Isabel's shoulders.

Max reached out and placed his hand gently on top of Isabel's. "He's not going to get you," he promised. "I won't let him."

* * *

School passed in a blur for Isabel. She could not get Khivar's words from her mind, and could not focus on anything happening around her. She was sure Max must have explained something to Michael and Tess, because though both of them kept slanting concerned looks at her in whatever classes they shared, neither made any attempt to engage in conversation. She was thankful for that, for the solitude.

Lunch was surprisingly harder. Alex had clearly been informed of everything, and he hovered at her side, worried. She didn't have the heart to tell him that his presence was not exactly helping, that she didn't want him to be continually asking how she was doing. She let him talk, let the words wash over her, and stared blankly at the lunch her mother had packed for her.

She had no idea what Max had said to their parents. She had no idea what she would say to them when she got home. They were worried, and her father had even suggested that she not go to school today, but she had insisted. She wanted to pretend that everything was normal. She wanted to pretend that this didn't scare her as much as it actually did.

She looked up from her sandwich as Maria joined the table. The tension between Max and Maria was palpable, but what surprised Isabel more was the way Maria couldn't quite meet Michael's gaze. There was something wrong there, but she didn't have the energy to figure out what it was.

Across the quad, she could see Tess and Chris talking. They were holding hands, and Tess was laughing at something Chris had said. For a moment, Tess turned, looking past her boyfriend towards Isabel. They locked gazes, and Tess jerked her head up, a silent greeting, a silent question.

Isabel smiled in response. She knew Tess was enquiring about how she was doing, and she wanted to give the impression that everything was fine. Maybe if she could convince everyone else of that, then she would be able to convince herself as well.

Tess gave a slight nod and turned back to Chris. They talked for a few more minutes and Isabel continued to stare blankly at them. She knew she was completely ignoring everyone else, but she just couldn't bring herself to care.

Finally, Chris walked over to a nearby table and sat down. Tess dropped her bag down next to him, said something to which he shrugged in response, and then turned and walked away. She crossed the quad quickly and disappeared back inside the school. Isabel watched the other hybrid's progress, twisting in her seat to keep her eyes on Tess until she was completely lost to view behind the school doors.

"Fascinating subject?"

Isabel started and looked up to see Sara and Jessica standing behind her, both wearing smug expressions. Behind Sara, Cliff was talking to someone Isabel vaguely recognized as a football player from the class year below them.

"Um… yeah. Just…"

"Yeah, I know," Sara agreed, clearly assuming that she and Isabel were thinking the same thing. "I keep wondering about it, too. But Tess hasn't killed anyone yet, so either she's okay giving up a few minutes of her lunch hour or Chris has finally managed to talk some sense into her."

"Oh… right," Isabel said.

Alex came to her rescue and asked, "Where is Tess going?"

"The guidance counselor wants to check in with her for a few minutes every week," Jessica explained. "Make sure she's adjusted and all that. God only knows why he wants to do any of that, though. I mean… Tess isn't exactly the most pleasant person to be around right now. Particularly not if you try to start a conversation about her father or Kyle."

"Hasn't Mr. Loggers asked to talk to you, too?" Sara inquired.

Alex shrugged. "I have a meeting with him this afternoon. He indicated he wanted to talk about stuff other than my college plans, so… maybe that's what he wants to check in about."

"Hey, by the way," Jessica added, "I didn't get a chance to say this yet, but I'm glad you're not dead."

Alex stared at her blankly for a moment, clearly having no idea how to respond to that, and around them, Max, Michael, and Maria all gaped as well. Isabel was only vaguely aware of the conversation, however, as her attention moved back to Chris.

"Um… thanks?" Alex ventured.

"Yeah, it's nice to see you in the land of the living," Sara agreed. "It makes Isabel a lot more fun to hang out with when she's not moping constantly."

"Did you say Chris talked Tess into seeing the counselor?" Isabel asked, changing the subject and leaving Alex to shake his head in wonder at the very strange moods of the two popular girls.

"Yeah," Sara answered. "Well, anyway, he convinced her that it wasn't such a horrible thing that an adult was taking an interest in her life. I mean, I don't think he really cares one way or another about Mr. Loggers, but, you know, he is trying to keep Tess somewhat sane."

Isabel nodded.

"Anyway," Cliff broke into the conversation then, "we're going to go keep Chris company until his girlfriend gets back from the shrink…"

"He's not a shrink," Jessica inserted, rolling her eyes.

"…so you should come join us instead of sticking around them," and he gave the rest of the group a derisive look. "And, hey, Whitman, you can come, too."

Maria opened her mouth to say something, but Isabel cut in quickly, "Maybe Alex and I will join you guys in a bit."

As Sara, Jessica, and Cliff wandered off, Maria started grumbling insults under her breath. Michael rolled his eyes but said nothing else, and Max shot his sister a worried look.

But Isabel was too busy thinking about Chris and Tess to pay any attention to everyone else. She loved Alex, she really did. So did it make her a bad person to also wish that their relationship could be closer to what Tess and Chris had? Something casual, something that didn't require a whole lot of effort?

She'd been a little jealous of Max and Liz's closeness in the beginning, of their apparent soul mate connection. But as she and Alex got continually closer, as their relationship morphed into a more all-consuming liaison… and then devolved into what had occurred last spring… As she watched Max and Liz fall apart, the one-time closeness turning against them, pushing them further and further apart…

They were only teenagers. The semi-idealistic part of her had longed for true love, for the kind of experience that involved falling in love at first sight and being strong enough to stay together through everything. But she had been naïve enough to believe that that sort of love, once found, would be easy to maintain.

It wasn't.

So was it really so wrong to be jealous of a relationship that seemed more normal, more age-appropriate?

Maria interrupted her thoughts by saying suddenly, "I really don't like this Mr. Loggers. I mean, how do we know he isn't evil?"

"Not everybody who takes an interest in us is evil," Max replied. "But I agree that we need to be careful."

* * *

"You still here, SinClair?"

David SinClair glanced up from his desk and gave a wan smile to the man standing in the doorway. He knew the few other reporters who were aware of his suspicions thought he was crazy. After all, it had been weeks, and he'd found nothing. Usually, that meant there was nothing to find.

"Yeah, I'm still here," he said. "Going to give me a lecture about wasting my time?"

"No. I'm just surprised your editors haven't recalled you back home. They don't usually let their writers stay this long in a foreign city without anything to report."

"Yeah. They've pretty much told me if I'm not home by the weekend, I'm fired," David admitted reluctantly.

"Then go home," was the incredulous response. "Is this worth risking your job? There's nothing here. You really don't want to stick around chasing dead ends."

David nodded slowly. "Yeah… you're probably right…"

The other reporter grinned. "I'm always right. You should remember that," he said.

* * *

Max had warned everyone to be careful, and Isabel had decided to do just that. She didn't feel particularly distrustful of Mr. Loggers, but she also didn't want to take any chances. It wasn't that hard to get her hands on a picture of him, and once that was accomplished, it did not take much to get into his dreams.

They turned out to be incredibly boring.

And human.

So, upon determining that he was not an alien and there really wasn't anything remotely troublesome or misleading about him, she was content to pull out of his dream and put the matter to rest. She would tell Max, Max would tell the others, and they would all be able to breathe a little easier.

Unfortunately, as she pulled out of his dream, she ended up in a terrifyingly familiar corridor.

It was colder this time, and the wind rushed in through the open windows. Khivar was standing at the far end, staring out one of the windows, the black curtain obscuring him from her view.

"Tell me," Khivar said casually, "does you boyfriend like your new face?"

Isabel blinked. "I… what do you know of my boyfriend?" she asked tentatively, trying to keep the fear at bay. She knew that Nicolas had learned quite a bit about him and had most likely reported most of that back to Khivar before his death, but it still unnerved her to hear their enemy refer so carelessly to Alex.

"I know he's just a boy," Khivar answered, looking at her over one shoulder. "I know he could never hope to have the same kind of relationship we have."

"I don't have a relationship with you," Isabel argued fiercely.

"And yet you didn't seem to be protesting that kiss last night," Khivar answered with a smug smile.

Isabel walked forward. Again, she had the strange sensation of her body moving by itself, refusing to obey her mind's wishes. Something about him drew her closer and she couldn't stop it. She couldn't fight it.

She paused a couple feet away from him.

"It is… odd… to see you looking like that," Khivar commented, his eyes running up and down her body.

She glanced down, surprised again to find herself wearing clothing far too elegant. This time, the dress was short and black and loose enough to flutter around her knees as the wind continued rushing through the wind. Her hair was pulled off her neck into some sort of elaborate knot, and she was wearing several strands of pearls.

She was barefoot.

"Of course, you will always look beautiful to me," Khivar continued smoothly. "But I am so used to your other form." He looked down at his own body, musing, "Even this human body feels odd. Everything about Earth is so different."

"If you don't like it," Isabel snapped, "you could go home."

"And I will," Khivar answered. "Soon, Vilandra. Very soon we will go home."

"I will never go anywhere with you," Isabel answered firmly. "I will never betray my family."

Khivar reached out his arm and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. She stared down at his hand. Some part of her knew she should pull away, but she didn't. She simply stood there, feeling his skin on her own.

"You look beautiful," Khivar murmured, drawing her in towards him.

"You approve of the dress?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you need my approval?"

"No," Isabel answered, but her voice shook and she couldn't help but wonder if that was true.

"I love you," Khivar said, his voice low. "I have loved you from the moment I first saw you. You were the world to me, Vilandra. You still are." He pulled her into his side, both arms wrapping around her in an embrace.

"You won't go back to your brother or your boyfriend," Khivar whispered.

"You can't stop me," Isabel said, although, again, she wondered if that was actually true.

"I don't need to stop you," Khivar answered. "You will stop yourself. You will always be mine. Don't you know that by now, Vilandra?"

She could see out the window now. The desert stretched out towards the horizon, and high above, the sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue. The air was far too cold for the desert, and the heat of the sun did not reach her. But none of that registered in her mind, and instead, she found herself staring at the three people before her.

On the other side of the window stood Max, Michael, and Tess. Each of them looked back at her, betrayal etched into the lines of their faces.

"You will always be mine," Khivar repeated.

And Isabel woke up screaming.

* * *

"Why is he doing this? What does he want?" Max asked angrily, pacing back and forth across the floor of Michael's apartment while Tess and Michael watched him in silence.

Ahab looked thoughtfully at the hybrid King as he considered this question. He could see Max's fury, and beneath it, he could see the raw fear. The Royals were under no delusions about Khivar's power, nor were they willing to trust that this was something Isabel could handle on her own.

Which was good, Ahab admitted to himself, because this most certainly was not something the Princess could fix by herself. Khivar's power was beyond anything they could conceive of at the moment, and the Princess' past self was too hard to predict. What would Vilandra do?

And could Isabel really fight that? Could she fight herself?

It was strange to think about the Royals in terms of their hybrid selves. It was something he had been struggling with, to mentally refer to them by their Earth names. In the beginning, he hadn't seen the point in making that distinction, in forcing himself and everyone else to acknowledge that they were anything else than the Royal Four.

But this strange conflict between Isabel and Vilandra made it quite clear that they were different people, and that distinction did matter.

"It is clear that he wants her back," Ahab said finally, "although I have no doubt that his reasons are twofold."

"What do you mean?" Tess asked sharply. She was sitting on Michael's sofa, and for the most part, her eyes had not left Max since his arrival. It was clear she was concerned about what he might do in order to protect his sister.

Now, though, she looked over at Ahab, pinning him with a searching stare.

"Your Majesty, Khivar _did_ love Vilandra," Ahab explained. "In his own way, she mattered a good deal to him. He wants her back now."

"That's one reason," Tess said. "What's the other?"

"Logically, it would make more sense for Khivar to attack first, kill the three of you, and then take the Princess back to Antar with him," Ahab replied, choosing his words carefully. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Max stiffened almost automatically, and wondered if it was because of the possibility of his own death or the possibility of losing his sister.

Probably both.

"Going after the Princess in this manner delays his own attack and gives you more time to prepare," Ahab continued. "It is, of course, somewhat possible that the Princess will also manage to fight him. This is unlikely, but it is still a risk. As she has some power over dreams, and it is through dreams that he is reaching out to her… if she can fight him, she could weaken him… Not much, but enough that he would have to delay his attack even more."

"Which is a bad idea," Michael said. "So why is he doing this now?"

"If I had to venture a guess, General," Ahab answered, turning to Michael, "I would imagine it is more than just his desire for Vilandra that drives his current actions." He flicked his gaze back to Max. "You killed his brother, your Majesty. You took Nicolas from him."

"And now he's retaliating by taking my sister," Max said slowly.

Ahab nodded. "That would be my guess. If he has to fight this battle without his brother, without his most trusted ally…"

"Then I should have to fight it without my sister," Max muttered, a scowl on his face.

"Precisely," Ahab agreed.

"How can we stop him?" Michael asked. The question was addressed more to Max and Tess, but he flicked his gaze over to Ahab, including the Royalist in the inquiry.

"I do not know," Ahab answered honestly. "I know little about how Khivar is managing this, and even less about how to fight someone through dreams. I will discuss it with the other Royalists. They may know more than me."

"So we just have to wait?" Max demanded, looking displeased. "_Great_."

"We can try to help Isabel fight back," Tess suggested. "She can dream-walk us into her dreams, can't she?"

"Or we could try to find Khivar and attack him in person," Michael suggested.

"We're not ready for that," Tess said instantly.

"And you think we're more prepared to fight him in Isabel's dreams? We don't know what kind of damage we will be doing to her, playing with her subconscious like that," Michael countered. "And, anyway, Khivar might be able to bring his army into Isabel's mind as well, and then we're really putting her in danger."

"Could some of the Royalists look for Khivar and… I don't know… distract him?" Max asked Ahab.

Ahab frowned. "Yes, your Majesty, we could. However, if he has enough of an army with him, we would need several Royalists to do any damage, and many of them would surely die… which that would lessen our odds of winning the final conflict. It would also leave you four less protected before the conflict, which is dangerous as well."

"We have to do _something_," Tess snapped. "We can't just sit around and wait for Khivar to drive Isabel insane."

There was a tense silence, then Max asked, "What about the guy Larek mentioned? Cal Langley?"

Ahab's eyes narrowed as he felt anger well up in his chest. Although he had never harbored quite the same level of loathing for the supposed protector that many of his soldiers – Kristalia included – had felt, he did not trust the other alien at all. He was a coward more concerned with his own comforts than this war, than the safety and wellbeing of his people and his planet. It was despicable.

"I thought Kristalia informed you of all the reasons he can't be trusted," Ahab said softly.

"She did," Max agreed reluctantly. "And… and she's right. I mean, I _know_ he can't be trusted. I know Larek can't be trusted, either. But… but would it hurt to ask him? Maybe he knows something. Maybe he can help us."

It was clear from the pleading quality of his voice that he was desperate, searching for any possibility that might help his sister. But it was equally clear from the frustration in his eyes that he knew Kal could not be trusted. Ahab felt a sudden pity for the hybrid King, for his helplessness, for his inability to protect his sister.

"We'll figure something out," Michael said after a moment. "Somehow… we'll figure something out."

Max sank onto a chair and buried his face in his hands, elbows propped up against his knees. "Yeah… right," he muttered in agreement, although the disbelief was clear in his voice.

"Max…" Tess started, and then stopped, unsure what to say.

"She's my sister," Max said in a muffled tone. "I'm supposed to protect her, I'm supposed to keep her safe and I can't… I can't even manage to do that."

* * *

Next Chapter: Protector

Due: Tue 12/21


	18. Protector

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Eighteen: Protector

At some point, he lost track of the number of times he heard Isabel's screaming, her voice tearing through the silence of the night. Things weren't getting better – she wasn't getting better – and he hated this perpetual waiting. Ahab was speaking to the other Royalists, coming up with a plan, but it didn't matter. It wasn't good enough, because Isabel was in hurting _now_, and he couldn't do anything to help her.

He knew Michael and Tess were worried, too. And Alex. He saw it in the way they constantly glanced over at Isabel during school, their gazes darting back and forth with thinly concealed concern.

And Isabel…

Isabel looked like the walking dead. There were dark circles under her eyes and her skin was too pale and tinged gray.

It wasn't fair.

He didn't think. Michael had often complained that he spent too much time thinking, brooding, trying to find the exact right option. Michael had often accused him of always wanting to avoid action, to avoid taking steps in any direction. But this time…

This time, he didn't think.

He acted on instinct. Liz was gone, and he couldn't change that. Jim was dead, and he couldn't make Tess okay again. They were all still reeling from Courtney's betrayal, and he couldn't erase that pain. But this… this he might actually be able to do something about.

He scribbled the note to his parents and his sister and left it on the kitchen table where he was sure they would find it. There would be hell to pay when Michael and Tess caught up with him, but that didn't matter right now.

Isabel was hurting, and he was supposed to protect her, and everything else was irrelevant.

* * *

"He what? He _what_?"

Michael was furious. Michael was beyond furious. He paced back and forth across the floor of the living room, his incredulous gaze alternating between the worried Mr. and Mrs. Evans and the distraught Isabel. He had been surprised to get the panicked call from Isabel this early in the morning on a Saturday, and had been even more surprised to arrive at her house and find everyone gathered there – even her parents.

Everyone except Max.

Tess was staring out the window. Her face was expressionless. She had not commented even once since the beginning of the meeting, which was not at all like her. Michael stared at her and frowned, wishing he knew what she was thinking.

"I can't believe he would do this," Isabel whispered, her voice strained.

Michael looked back at her, pausing in his pacing as he regarded her exhausted features. He opened his mouth to say something, and then snapped it shut. He didn't have an answer for her.

"I can," Maria said with a derisive roll of her eyes. "I can totally believe he would do something like this."

She was sitting across from Isabel. Her expression was blank, just like Tess', but Michael could still read her fairly well. Every now and then, a look of indecision would momentarily flicker through her eyes, and he knew she was torn between comforting Isabel and holding on to her bitter anger at the hybrid Princess.

The kinder side was slowly winning. She was unbending slightly, and her expression was softening as she continued to stare at Isabel.

"He's going to get himself killed," Isabel muttered. She ran a hand through her hair and then shook her head. "He's going to get himself killed and it's all because of me."

"Oh, honey, don't say that," Mrs. Evans interjected quickly, coming to her daughter's side. She squeezed Isabel's shoulder and said in a tone too confident to be truly believed, "He's going to be fine. And none of this is your fault."

"It _is_ my fault," Isabel argued, twisting to look at her mother. "He's doing this _because_ of me."

"He's such an idiot," Michael snapped irritably. Not only did Max decide to run off like this into unknowable danger, but now Isabel was also feeling guilty for his actions.

Alex got up from where he was sitting at the opposite end of the room and crossed to Isabel's side. He knelt in front of her, taking both her hands in his. "This isn't your fault," he said softly, "and we're going to figure it out. All of it."

"That's what Max is doing," Tess said abruptly, spinning around sharply and looking at all of them. "That's _exactly_ what Max is doing. That's what we should have been doing all along."

"What are you talking about?" Michael demanded, whirling to face her. He felt almost cheated that she would say something so blatantly ridiculous. In an instance like this, Tess was the last one he would have expected to be on Max's side. She had always been the one most prone to yell at them for acting on impulses instead of thinking things through, and Max had done exactly that.

She gazed steadily back at him. "Max is trying to fix the problem."

"Trying to…?" Michael trailed off with an incredulous shake of his head. "He's creating the problem."

"Oh, for God's sake!" Tess hissed, throwing her hands up in the air. "_Khivar_ created the problem. Khivar created _all_ of the problems."

"And now Max is making things worse by doing something reckless and idiotic," Michael snapped back.

"Worse? How can things get worse?" Tess asked, folding her arms over her chest. "Michael, there is an entire army of skins gathering to plot our deaths, and we don't know when they're going to attack. Khivar is slowly driving Isabel insane, and whatever the rest of you want to think about that, it seems rather obvious to me that she is _not_ getting better. And Ahab hasn't come up with any answers yet."

Isabel buried her head in her hands with a soft groan.

"So Max ran off to find Cal Langley," Tess continued in an even voice. "Yeah, okay, not the smartest idea he's ever had. Maybe it really is reckless and idiotic and maybe it will put us in a whole bunch of danger. But right now, I don't know what other option we have. Isabel _needs_ help. What else are we supposed to do?"

"Not trust people we don't know?" Michael suggested sardonically. "In case, you know, they end up killing us or the people we care about?"

It was a low blow, and Tess flinched and averted her gaze. For a moment, Michael even though he saw tears glimmering in her blue eyes. But when she looked at him again, her expression was cool and collected.

And determined.

But before Tess could answer, Maria spoke up in a small and diffident voice. "I think… okay, I can't believe I am actually saying this, but… I think Tess is right."

Michael gaped at her. "_What_?" Alex and Isabel both looked equally surprised, and even Tess appeared baffled by that unexpected support.

Maria hesitated, chewing her lip. She lifted her eyes to his and gave an almost apologetic shrug. "I know Max isn't my favorite person right now, but… he is doing this for Isabel. To try to protect her. And… we really haven't come up with any better ideas at the moment. Have we?"

"He should have talked to us first," Michael grumbled, unwilling to let go of his anger despite acknowledging the truth in Maria and Tess' words.

"Maybe he didn't because he thought you would disagree and he didn't want to waste time arguing," Tess said. "I mean… we didn't support the idea when he mentioned it to Ahab."

"Langley can't be trusted," Isabel said quietly.

"I know," Tess agreed. "And Max knows it, too. He'll be careful."

"And he'll have backup," Michael said. "I'm going after him." When both Tess and Maria opened their mouths to say something, he added quickly, "Alone."

Maria looked hurt, but Tess just looked annoyed. "Michael…"

"I don't want to leave Isabel without at least one of us here," Michael pointed out logically.

"I don't need protection," Isabel protested in annoyance. "And if you're going after Max and Langley, you might need Tess' help."

Michael and Tess both ignored her. "I can take a Royalist with me. Maybe Ahab or… I don't know. Maybe Kristalia. But you should stay here with Isabel."

Tess nodded, agreeing a little reluctantly. "Okay. Yeah, okay. You're right."

Michael gave Tess one last searching stare, but he could see the honesty in her eyes, and felt confident that they did actually agree on this. Turning from her, he looked down at Maria.

She was glaring at him.

"We don't know if Langley is trustworthy," Michael said by way of explanation. "In fact, everyone seems to think he can't be trusted. I don't want to bring you into unknown danger."

"Then what was our road trip to Copper Summit? To Marathon, Texas?" Maria shot back.

"You went to Texas?" Mrs. Evans interrupted, surprise in her tone. This was clearly not something either of her children had told her about. Atherton's home and the orb they found there must not have been important enough for either to see a point in mentioning.

Michael saw no reason to elaborate on it now.

"It's a long story," Michael said with a faint shrug. "It was sophomore year. We were looking into conspiracy theories and that sort of thing. Isabel can tell you more about it."

"Yeah, that sounds like fun," Isabel grumbled.

"Michael," Maria interjected, "you can't just leave me behind."

"I'm not… this is different," Michael said. "It's not the same as Copper Summit. It's not… it's different."

"How?"

He rubbed his eyes. "It just is."

Maria didn't argue anymore, which surprised Michael to no end. He felt a little uneasy about it, and the angry look in her eyes did nothing to allay his worries, but he wasn't sure what to say. Maybe they'd argue about it when he got back. They were always arguing, so that wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary.

Except, of course, that they hadn't really argued in a while.

Before he had time to think on that particular insight, however, Mr. Evans, who had not spoken throughout the entire discussion, asked, "Who is this Cal Langley?"

* * *

Isabel was sitting on the park bench, staring up at the night sky and wishing she could somehow stop Khivar, protect her family, and beat up Max for worrying her so much, when Tess appeared at her side and sat down without waiting for any sort of acknowledgment or invitation.

"Michael will find Max. And they will talk to Langley. And we'll figure something out," Tess said without preamble.

Isabel blinked a few times. "Why are you…?" But she stopped before she finished the sentence, unsure what it was she really wanted to ask.

Tess slanted a shrewd look at her and said, "Why am I okay with what Max did?"

Isabel inhaled sharply. "Yeah."

Tess sighed. "Look, running off to California with only a quick note to you and your parents as an explanation for where he was going and why… I am mad at him for that. And for not coming to us and telling us in person what he wanted to do. But… I get it. I get what it feels like to need to protect someone." She tilted her head up, looking at the night sky. "I would have done the same for Kyle. And…" Here she paused, looking thoughtful. "I would have… should have… done the same for you."

"Even at the risk of making things worse?" Isabel questioned.

"When Kyle told me he was leaving Roswell, one of the many things he asked me was that I not let this war turn me into a person that he wouldn't recognize anymore. And I promised him that I wouldn't. And then I used Jim's death as an excuse to demand that we hunt down and kill someone. And I used his death as a reason to argue that we shouldn't take Courtney's deal, that we shouldn't save Alex. But the thing is… I know it was never what Jim would have wanted. He wouldn't want to be the reason Alex died. He wouldn't want to be the reason I became a murderer."

Isabel closed her eyes, remembering those few days. Tess' grief and fury, the fallout between Liz and Max, her own confession and its consequences… They had all changed. And she wanted Courtney dead. She had wanted it with more fury and passion than she had ever wanted anything before. The summer had lessened the hatred, but it was still there, lingering under the surface.

And the fear and the guilt where there, too. They grew every time Khivar visited her. She could not stop him, and she could not deny the attraction she felt. She couldn't fight him, and it terrified her.

"My point," Tess said, cutting into her thoughts, "is that sometimes our emotions can get in the way… can make us do things, say things… make us not think clearly. Ever since Courtney… ever since Jim's death… we've forgotten."

"Forgotten what?" Isabel asked.

"In the white room, Pierce was…" Tess stopped, swallowed. "I can't even describe… or explain…" She shook her head, looked away. "I can't make you understand how horrible it was, but whatever sense of helplessness and hopelessness you feel when Khivar is in your dreams… it was like that. Except that there was pain involved, too. And I knew I wasn't going to be able to just… wake up."

Isabel nodded silently. She remembered the haunted look in Tess' eyes when they rescued her from the white room. She remembered the way Tess had flinched away from Max's touch, refusing to be healed, refusing to let anyone see the flashes. At the time, she had been torn between annoyance and Tess' stubbornness and gratitude at another reminder of just how far Tess was willing to go to protect Max from things she didn't think he needed to experience.

The white room… Pierce… it all seemed like years ago. Could it really only have been less than eighteen months since that incident?

Since they had found out about their past, since Max had killed Pierce, since their lives had gone spiraling into chaos beyond anything she had previous imagined?

"And it would have been so easy to give up. To surrender," Tess pressed on, her voice suddenly hard and flat. "To stop. To give in… But I didn't. Do you know why?"

Isabel raised one eyebrow, "I have a feeling that you are about to tell me."

Tess smiled slightly. "You dream-walked me. You told me to hang on. You told me that the three of you were coming and you were going to save me." She paused, her smile turning into a mocking grin. "Do you have any idea how absolutely brainless that was?"

"Um… no?"

"Three human-alien hybrids who had only just learned about their past and didn't have particularly good control of their powers, a shape-shifter we were not convinced we could trust, and three human teenagers. Going up against the FBI. Trained agents with guns. People who had killed before, and would do so again without the slightest bit of hesitation. And you had no way of knowing exactly how many people were in the military base or if you could really fight them all… It was a remarkably idiotic plan. And anyone with anything resembling common sense would have known that."

"Yeah… I guess," Isabel had to concede the point.

"I have common sense. Enough to have viewed what you were telling me as a suicide mission that would get you all killed. But you said you were going to save me, and against all odds, I believed you. How utterly moronic is that?"

"Brainless. Idiotic. Moronic." Isabel smiled grimly. "You have a lot of synonyms for stupid."

Tess laughed, a real laugh that lit up her face. Even Isabel found herself chuckling slightly at the absurdity of Tess' words and her own comment.

"It was stupid," Isabel agreed finally. "It was a reckless and stupid plan."

"Just about as stupid as me walking into a skin compound filled with enemy aliens, and with only Courtney as backup," Tess continued. Bitterness crept into her tone as she added, "I mean… we all know how trustworthy she turned out to be."

"Yeah," Isabel muttered.

"And trying to fool Nicolas and Rath? Putting myself in an incredible amount of danger on some slim chance that I might actually be able to save you? I remember what it was like to do that, to be terrified and determined and angry all at the same time. To know that I was hopelessly outnumbered and faced by at least one alien who was so much stronger than me. And yet… despite all my fear, I walked into that compound without the slightest bit of hesitation."

"Our rescue missions are insane," Isabel agreed thoughtfully.

"They were also the only viable options at the time," Tess answered. "You need me to save you from Nicolas, just like I needed you to save me from Pierce. We take chances when we have to. We need to be cautious and we need to be careful but… we've always done stupid and reckless things to save each other. We don't always have the luxury of pretending that there is another way. Because a lot of times…"

"…there _isn't_ another way," Isabel finished quietly.

Tess nodded. "But we've forgotten that. And we've forgotten what it feels like to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we will always do whatever is necessary to keep each other safe. Like taking on the FBI. Like walking into a skin compound. Like accepting a deal from Courtney and letting her go free in order to save Alex's life."

"Like rushing off to California to seek out someone we don't completely trust?" Isabel finished.

"Yeah. Like that." Tess ran a hand through her hair, and the curls bounced slightly. "This isn't your fault, Isabel. Just like Pierce kidnapping me wasn't my fault. Just like Rath kidnapping you wasn't your fault." She hesitated, then added, "Just like Courtney's betrayal and Jim's death wasn't your fault."

Isabel swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She couldn't find the right words to reply to that implied forgiveness and absolution for the lies she had told and the secrets she had kept.

But Tess didn't seem to be waiting for any sort of answer. The petite hybrid rose to her feet. "Whatever happens, we've got your back," she said.

Then Tess turned and walked away, and Isabel watched her go in silence. She had no idea how things had gotten so screwed up. But maybe they were starting to get better again.

* * *

Kristalia leaned tiredly against the window and stared at the scenery that flew by. She was more than a little surprised that the General had requested her presence on this mission, but, upon reflection, had decided that he probably didn't have much of a choice. He had no idea what he was getting himself into, and right now, she was the only one that they even remotely trusted who knew anything about Kal.

But, of course, they didn't really trust her. The four of them were not big on trusting people, and the General was the most suspicious of the group.

She ran a hand through her bright red hair and blinked a few times. The war had taken its toll on all of them even before they had come to Earth. Even before the Royals had died the first time. And now that it finally seemed as though there was an end in sight…

She tried not to think about exactly what that end would mean. Were they really ready?

"What is Kal like?" Michael asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She glanced at him. He was staring ahead at the road, and did not turn to look at her. But it was clear by the tension in his expression that he was waiting for her answer.

She considered her choices for a moment, then said, "Bitter."

"Bitter?"

"I can't really describe it any other way," she said with a shrug. "He is bitter. He thinks he was cheated." She licked her lips, looking away, back out at the rolling desert hills. "In a way, I guess he was cheated. He did not ask to be your protector, and yet he cannot escape the biology of it."

"I don't know," Michael said slowly, "it seems like he managed to escape it pretty well. Living as a Hollywood producer, away from the war." There was frustration in his voice, and jealousy. "Can't say I blame him for wanting to get away from everything."

"He turned his back on his people," she said sharply. "I blame him for _that_." She folded her arms over her chest, surprised at how quickly the General's words had managed to aggravate her. She had never liked Kal, and she certainly did not think he was trustworthy, but she had forgotten how personally she took it all.

Michael gave her a quick, shrewd glance. "Did you know him well?"

"No," she said shortly. "But we've all suffered in this war, and the rest of us haven't walked away from it." Michael looked as though he was about to ask her how she had suffered, and wanting to avoid that particular conversation, she changed the subject, "Any more reporters bothering Alex Whitman?"

Michael started, and then frowned. "Not that I know of. I guess interest has died down. Anyway, Alex hasn't mentioned anything to me, so that has to be a good thing, right?"

Kristalia nodded. "Yes, it should be."

"Why do you ask?" Michael demanded suspiciously.

"I was just curious," Kristalia defended herself quickly. "I'd rather not have to fight Khivar and his skins while at the same time worrying about reporters. Or the FBI."

Michael shuddered slightly at that thought.

"Regardless of their interest in your friend's health, though, we will need to be careful. I know Ahab is already thinking about that." Kristalia sighed and added, "It just means the fighting needs to be subtle."

"We're at war. How do you plan on making it subtle?" Michael scoffed, but it was clear from the underlying worry in his tone that he had been thinking about this problem, too, and had not yet come up with any answers.

Kristalia didn't say anything. There wasn't really any answer she could give to him question, and at the moment, she wanted to focus her thoughts on Kal. They would reach California soon enough, and hopefully in time to stop the King from doing anything stupid.

They drove on in silence.

* * *

Next Chapter: Blood Against Blood

Due: Sun 12/26


	19. Blood Against Blood

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Nineteen: Blood Against Blood

Walking into the home of a famous Hollywood producer and director during what was clearly some sort of celebratory party was probably not the smartest idea Max had ever had, but he wasn't sure what else to do. Cal Langley was here, in this mansion, and he might have answers. Max wasn't willing to wait.

Slipping past the guards wasn't easy, and he knew that as soon as one of the many cameras around the place picked up on his presence, there would be several people ready to throw him off the property. But if he could make it to Langley before that happened…

He had gotten all the way to the second floor of the house, and was halfway down the hallway leading to the room that – judging from all the noise – must have contained the party, when he heard a sharp voice call out to him.

"Hey, you!"

He spun around, instantly on edge. It was a security guard, dressed all in black, with a grim expression on his square features. He was taller and bulkier than Max, and was clearly used to his size giving him enough of an advantage. He walked forward with a determined stride and a fierce scowl.

Max held up his hands in a sign of surrender. "Hey, man. Langley wanted me to stop by. I'm just going to see him now."

The man paused, skeptical. "Then why didn't you check in at the front gate? You think we didn't see you sneaking around? We've got cameras, kid. What are you, a crazy science fiction fan?"

"I'm just following orders from Langley," Max said firmly. "If you don't believe me, why don't we go talk to him?" He gestured behind him, down the hallway. "Interrupt the party. I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

"I'm sure he'd rather I just save him all the trouble and throw you out, first," the guard answered with a slight drawl.

"Stevens? What's going on?"

Max spun around and found himself staring at Langley. He was a relatively short man, slightly round, with a clipped gray beard and suspicious brown eyes. He was a fedora pulled low on his forehead, and a loosely-fitting casual suit.

His eyes widened when his gaze landed on Max, and for a moment, the recognition was obvious.

"Tell your security guard that he doesn't need to throw me out," Max ordered, silently wondering whether or not Kristalia had been right about the protectors. Would Langley have to do whatever Max ordered?

Resentment flickered briefly in Langley's eyes, but he said, "It's alright, Stevens. You don't have to throw him out."

Stevens nodded. "Alright, sir. Just checking. Kid was sneaking around, and we were a little suspicious." He gave Max one final glare, then turned and walked away, leaving the two aliens standing alone in the hallway.

"Now's not really a good time, _your Majesty_," Langley said, his voice low and sarcastic. He jerked his head to the side, indicating the door at the end of the hallway. "I've got company. I don't have time to deal with whatever you need."

"Yeah, well, Khivar's currently trying to drive my sister insane, so _make_ the time," Max snapped.

He hadn't really meant to give an order, at least not at that moment, but the words came out of his mouth before he could think through the implications of them, and Langley had no choice but to shrug and obey.

"Fine. What do you need?"

"A way to kill Khivar, save my sister, and end the war," Max answered honestly.

"Don't get cute with me, you prick," Langley hissed. He gave Max a long look, his eyes roaming up and down the hybrid's body. "So this is the mighty King of Antar. A low-rent Tom Cruise with a $10 haircut?" He rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. "Buddy boy, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

"I know exactly what I'm getting myself into," Max argued. "That's why I came to find you. We need your help. You're our protector."

"_Don't_ call me that," Langley answered, striding forward and slamming his fist forcefully into the wall next to Max's head.

"Cal? Everything alright?"

Max glanced back Langley to see a leggy blonde emerge at the end of the hallway. She appeared to be in her early twenties, and was dressed in a skimpy red halter-top and a very short black skirt. Her expression was decidedly flirtatious.

"Everything's fine, Tiffany," Langley answered dismissively. "My friend was just leaving."

"No, I wasn't," Max answered, loud enough for the blonde to hear. "Cal was about to invite me into the party." In a lower tone, he added, "Go ahead, Langley. Invite me to join you all."

Langley let out an annoyed breath and snapped, "Fine." Turning to Tiffany, he added, "Tiff, darling, this is the son of an old friend of mine. He's… uh…"

"Working on a project with Cal," Max supplied, stepping past Cal and extending his hand to Tiffany. "I'm Max Evans, Antar Films."

"Another director?" Tiffany asked curiously, taking his hand. "Aren't you a bit young?" She turned to Cal then and gave him a sultry wink. "But quite delectable, isn't he?"

"Behave yourself, Tiff," Langley replied with a wry grin.

Tiffany just laughed, before spinning on her three inch heels and strutting back into the party.

"Langley!"

Max and Langley both turned around once more as a tall, well dressed man stomped into view from the staircase that twisted around at the other end of the hallway. Upon catching sight of him, Langley bit back a groan and ran a hand through his hair. He looked decidedly unpleased by the new arrival, but by the time the other man was close enough to clasp hands, Langley had forced a smile to his face.

"Jensen. Always a pleasure," Langley said, giving the other man a firm handshake. "Glad you could make it to the party."

"Wouldn't miss it," Jensen replied. "Was that Tiffany DuVale I saw? She didn't walk out of your last project? I thought she threw hissy fit or something like that?"

"Are you kidding?" Langley answered with a laugh. "She's an actress. I bumped up her per diem, gave her a bigger trailer, and had Brian rewrite her part. His finest hour, let me tell you. He turned the hooker into a part-time yoga instructor, and Tiff's agreed to be with us until the end."

"Oh… well. That's good," Jensen said, although his sour expression contradicted his words. His gaze moved to Max. "You an apprentice or something? You're not an actor, are you? Because I don't recognize your face."

"No, I'm not an actor," Max answered quickly. "Cal is just… helping me out with some new projects."

"That's our Cal," Jensen said sarcastically, punching Langley lightly in the shoulder. "Always ready to help a fan. You a science fiction nerd? What are you working on? A film idea? Well, let's hear it."

Max opened and closed his mouth a few times, taken aback by this man's attitude. He hadn't really expected to get the third degree from someone he didn't even know, and had to frantically come up with an answer to the unexpected questions.

But a quick glance at Langley's smirking expression gave him the idea.

"It's about an alien stranded on Earth," Max explained. "He and his sister live here. And his sister gets sick…"

"Another alien flick?" Jensen said a bit derisively. "Don't we have enough of those."

"Oh, but this gets better," Max explained. "You see, this alien, he hunts down another alien, also stranded on Earth. And alien that he thinks can help his sister. Because you see, this other alien… he's got a lot of resources. He's a big Hollywood director and producer."

Jensen chuckled, amused. "Now that… _that_ I like."

"It is good," Langley said, giving Max a furious glare. "But I don't like these feel-good science fiction flocks. I don't think they're that interesting… unless somebody dies."

* * *

The party went late into the night, but Max didn't care. He had told Langley he was not leaving, and he wasn't. Not until he knew whether or not the alien had the ability to help him protect Isabel. But everything got quite a bit more complicated around two in the morning, when Michael and Kristalia suddenly appeared.

They, too, had slipped into the mansion unnoticed by the security, which made Max wonder briefly in Langley knew how incredibly unprotected he was. Should Khivar or the skins choose to attack, he wouldn't stand a chance. But maybe he was relying on the fact that they wouldn't attack him because he had made it so clear he wanted nothing to do with the war.

Or maybe he was on Khivar's side. Max knew he couldn't completely dismiss that possibility.

"Have you lost your mind?"

Max ran a hand through his hair and looked at Michael for a long moment. They were standing in the hallway where there was less a chance of being overheard, and Michael at least had enough common sense to keep his voice down. But Max was worried, and not just about the wrong people listening. He was worried about Michael's reaction, as well.

The hybrid General looked about ready to kill him.

He supposed he couldn't really blame Michael for being upset, but this was Isabel. This was his sister. And there was _nothing_ he wouldn't do for her.

"Isabel isn't getting better, Michael," Max said firmly. "You know that, you can see it. Langley might have answers."

"You can't trust him," Kristalia interjected briefly, twirling a few strands of red hair between her fingers and glancing over Max's shoulder towards the noise of the party. "He'll betray you. Somehow."

"What do you want me to do?" he asked sharply. "Sit around and do nothing? Because waiting for Ahab to come up with a plan hasn't worked so far. You guys don't know how to stop this, and I'm not going to just watch my sister suffer."

Michael glowered at him. "I know I frequently tell you that you spend too much time thinking, Maxwell, but sometimes… you really don't think enough."

"If I had come to you and asked your permission first," Max said, "what would you have done?"

"I would have said _no_!"

"Which is _exactly_ why I didn't tell you," Max responded, irate. "You and Tess weren't willing to consider the idea," he gave Kristalia a brief look, "and you made it perfectly clear where you stand on this issue. But we don't seem to have a whole lot of other options right now."

Michael opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it quickly as Langley emerged from the party. The older alien walked over to them, his eyes darting back and forth between Michael and Kristalia. He seemed to pick up on the tension in the air, and that brought a smile to his lips.

"Oh… dissension in the ranks?"

"Nobody asked you, Kal," Kristalia hissed.

Langley studied her for a long moment, then said, "Kristalia, right? We've met once or twice, haven't we?"

She pursed her lips. "Yes, we have," she muttered, sounding incredibly disgusted to be admitting to that.

"Well, I'd really rather not have to worry about the three of you ruining my party," he said after a pause, "and since the fearless King has made it clear he's not going anywhere without a Q and A session… let's talk. Follow me."

And he began walking briskly down the hallway.

Max followed him without much hesitation, and Michael and Kristalia trailed behind with sour expressions. The Royalist in particular seemed on edge, and Max wondered vaguely about that. He couldn't help but think that perhaps something had happened in her previous meetings with Langley – when they were still on Antar, before the war – that had made her dislike him so much. Something personal.

He did not get the chance to ask, however, as they soon rounded the corner and found themselves standing in a large sitting room. There was a fireplace against one wall, and a row of large windows that looked out over what appeared to be some sort of orchard. It was too dark out to determine the type of fruit trees, but Max gave them a curious glance all the same.

Langley settled himself into one of the three sofas in the center of the room and eyed Max with some disdain. Then he switched his gaze to Michael and shook his head in amusement.

"The four of you are even more pathetic here than you were on Antar," he said. Interlocking his fingers, he continued, "You break into my home, your Majesty, and taunt me in front of a rival director. You practically threatened to expose me."

Before Max could answer, Kristalia said sharply, "You turned your back on everything you were supposed to believe in."

But Langley just rolled his eyes. "I turned my back on everything _other people_ thought I should believe in," he countered. "Nobody asked me if I wanted to be a protector. Nobody asked me if I wanted to give my life to a war that would kill us all."

"Nobody asked me, either," Kristalia retorted. "But I did it anyway."

"Yes. You made the _choice_ to join the Royalist army, to fight Khivar," Langley snarled, eyes narrowing. He was practically baring his teeth as he continued, "That choice was made _for_ me. I didn't get a chance."

"I didn't get one, either," Michael said.

Langley looked at him and laughed. "You are the General, Rath. That was what you wanted, wasn't it? To be the Second in Command?"

"My name is Michael," Michael said shortly. "And I'm not talking about the past. I'm talking about the here and now. Khivar didn't ask whether or not I wanted to fight him. Khivar didn't ask whether or not we would rather just continue our lives as normal teenagers. He sent his skins to us, and we didn't have a choice. We fought back because we _had_ to."

"Yes, well… I _don't_ have to," Langley answered.

"What makes you think Khivar won't come after you once he's killed us?" Max asked, walking over to the sofa opposite Langley and sitting down. He was suddenly very tired, and the realization that he had not slept in over twenty-four hours landed heavily on him. But thoughts of Isabel's terrified expression, her voice screaming in the night, kept his energy up.

Langley didn't answer Max's question. Instead, he looked over at Kristalia and asked, "Do they know about your past and your loyalties?"

"My loyalties have always been to King Zan," Kristalia hissed. "And you didn't answer the question. How can you be so certain Khivar won't kill you?"

"He won't have a reason to," Langley answered, unconcerned. "With the four of them dead, I am no threat."

"It's good to know you can so callously dismiss our deaths," Michael growled. He had started pacing, and Max watched him for a moment. He could see the fury and disappointment etched into his friend's features, and knew that some part of him had been hoping Langley might still be an ally.

They had too few allies as it was.

But the big-time Hollywood director seemed to like his life here, and had no interest in giving it up. He could be forced, Max remembered warily, but was that really the right path? The idea of forcing someone to do something against their will…

And yet…

This was Isabel's life on the line.

"So you think you can live here, pretend to be human? You'll never be human, Kal. Surely you've figured that out," Kristalia argued.

Langley shrugged. "Maybe not, but I'll get close enough." He studied her for a moment, brows furrowed. "Where's the other one? That friend of yours from before? Jared?"

The redhead was across the room before Max could even register her movements, and she had grabbed Langley by the collar of his shirt and yanked him roughly to his feet. "_Don't_ bring him into this," she spat, eyes flashing dangerously. And then she shoved him backwards and he hit the sofa hard, slumping against the cushions.

The other alien had to pause to catch his breath, and there was a look of surprise in his eyes. "Hm… so does everyone you care about end up dead?" Langley asked a moment later.

She turned away from him and didn't answer.

"Look, Khivar is haunting Isabel through her dreams," Max said, feeling slightly worried about the sudden tension in the air. "He's driving her crazy, and we don't know how to stop him. We need your help."

"I'm not going to help you," Langley huffed impatiently. "Can't you get that through your thick skull?"

"And I'm not leaving without your help," Max replied furiously. "This is my sister, and she's sick and scared and hurt. Can't you get _that_ through _your_ thick skull?"

"I can't help you," Langley answered. "If I do, it will ruin everything I have worked for. My entire life will be destroyed, all because of you. And this is how you've always been, your Majesty. Selfish and ungrateful. Being your protector might be encoded in my genes, but I have always hated you."

"Everything you've worked for?" Max repeated, refusing to acknowledge the other part of Langley's statement. "And what is it you've worked for exactly? Money?"

Langley laughed bitterly. "You think this is about _money_?" he demanded, throwing his arms wide and gesturing to the room. "You don't know how lucky you are to have even a fraction of human DNA inside of you."

"What are you talking about?" Michael questioned.

"He doesn't have a whole lot in the way of senses," Kristalia answered for Langley.

Max looked at her. "What?"

She sighed. "There's something different about Earth's atmosphere. It interferes with how we process sensations. You know how the four of you like really strong flavors?" She paused, waiting for Michael and Max to both indicate their understanding of that, and then explained, "Your human DNA allows you to taste all food. We don't have human DNA so… we can't taste. We can't smell, either. We can see, hear, touch… but not the other two. And, actually, our ability to feel is somewhat limited to the stronger things. Pain of wounds and that sort of thing."

"I… I didn't… know…" Max stammered.

Kristalia ran a hand through her hair. "It's not a big deal. It's been annoying not to enjoy food since we came to Earth, but when we go back to Antar, it will be better. It will be normal again." She walked over to the windows and glanced out at the orchard. "Lemon trees?" she asked.

"Yeah," Langley answered. "I can afford all the sensual pleasures on the planet, but I can't experience them. Not like humans can."

"You have human envy?" Michael said incredulously. "If your life is so limited, why do you even want to stay on Earth?"

"I've learned to… diminish… my alienness," Langley answered. "I don't use my powers, I haven't used them in years. Gives the body a chance to function the way human bodies function, to sort of… acclimate."

"You managed to succeed this much without using any of your gifts?" Michael asked, surprised.

"I didn't lie or cheat my way to the top of this business," Langley snapped. "I'm _good_ at it." He shook his head, folded his arms over his chest. "Anyway, I can taste lemons now. I can smell chlorine in the pool. It might not seem like much to you four, but your Royalist protector can tell you that it is."

Max glanced again at Kristalia, but her expression was unreadable.

"I like my life here. It might not be perfect and I might still be missing out on some things, but it's better than being at the beck and call of all of your whims," Langley finished. "If I get drawn back into this war, if I have to use my powers… it's more than just dying or losing my identity here on Earth. I'll lose what I've built for myself. I won't even have lemons anymore." He stared hard at Max. "Word of advice: the more you embrace your alien side, the more you're going to lose."

* * *

The FBI agent leaned forward in his car, squinting through the windshield.

He had spent a lot of time keeping tabs on this particular reporter. He didn't find SinClair any more intelligent or perceptive than the other members of the media he had worked with and against in the past, but the man was certainly more stubborn. As far as the agent could tell, the reporter had found no evidence whatsoever, and yet he continued to stay here, risking his job and reputation on nothing more than a gut feeling.

But was their actually anything to find? Or was Roswell just the sleepy desert town that everyone else believed it to be?

SinClair was crossing the street when someone called out to him. He paused and looked over his shoulder. A figure, standing partially in the shadows, was waving to him. The FBI agent couldn't hear the words, just an indistinguishable rise and fall of sound, but then the reporter turned and walked back towards the figure.

"Don't do it," the agent whispered, already pushing open the door of his car. He couldn't explain why he was worried, but something clenched tightly around his hear.

The reporter and the unidentified man disappeared into the opening of a nearby alley. The agent drew his gun and rushed forward, his footsteps slapping on the cement ground, echoing in the otherwise silent night. He rounded the corner of the building, unsure exactly what he planned to do. What if this was just a normal meet? A reporter talking to a confidential source?

It wasn't.

The unknown man was already disappearing at the far end of the alley. And the reporter…

SinClair's body was sprawled on the ground, his arms and legs splayed out at odd angles. He was dead.

And there was a silver handprint glowing faintly on his chest.

* * *

"You can't just leave Roswell like that! Without telling any of us!" Michael hissed, his face flushed with anger. He paced back and forth across the floor of the guest bedroom Langley had given to Max. Both hybrids had their own rooms, and he presumed Kristalia did, too. Langley's mansion appeared to have an infinite number of bedrooms, and he had no idea what part of the house they were even in at this point.

Max rolled his eyes. "Right. The same way you didn't take off to Marathon, Texas? To Copper Summit? To the Harvest?" he demanded sarcastically.

Michael opened his mouth, and then shut it with a snap and looked away. "Things are different now, Maxwell," he said angrily. "We're at war."

"We've _been_ at war since before we were hatched!" Max shot back. "Things _aren't_ different now. Things are just as dangerous as they have always been."

"Except that Khivar is on Earth," Michael growled. "And if we don't stick together…"

"Your idea of sticking together is what exactly, Michael?" Max asked furiously. "Stand around together and watch Isabel go crazy?"

"Don't pretend like you're the only one who cares about her," Michael snarled, flushing. The implication that he wouldn't do anything possible to save Isabel rankled him. How could Max act as though he was the only one in danger of losing a family member?

"Then don't pretend like I'm the only one who has ever gone off and done something on my own," Max answered viciously. He stalked away from Michael, arms folded over his chest.

Michael stared at him for a long moment. He wanted to be angry at Max, wanted to focus only on the fact that the hybrid King had run off on his own without a thought for how the others would react to his disappearance or a consideration for the amount of danger they were all in if they didn't stick together…

But instead he thought of Maria, standing in front of him in the backroom of the Crashdown last spring, asking why they weren't willing to take risks to save Alex, telling him that they both knew he would have done anything necessary if it had been Isabel in that coma.

He scratched his eyebrow and stared at Max's back, unable to think of what to say. Max wasn't going to be willing to listen to anything, not with Isabel's life at risk.

"Fine," Michael grumbled, "I need to get some air." And he turned and walked out of the room.

He stood in the hallway, unsure where to go. His own room was right next to Max's, but he was too angry and frustrated to consider going to bed. He began to wander, glancing around him as he did so. He had never seen this kind of wealth before, accept occasionally in his vague memories of Antar. Was this what the royal palace there was like? There were too many rooms to count, and the walls were covered in paintings and tapestries that had to be worth a fortune.

What was the point of having all of this? Langley was only one person and couldn't enjoy it all. It seemed to Michael like such a waste.

He meandered down a flight of stairs. They opened up into another long hallway. He was still for a moment, wondering which way to go, when he caught the faint sound of voices. Intrigued, he walked swiftly and silently towards the noise.

Peeking around the corner, Michael caught sight of a large kitchen filled with multiple gadgets and appliances, marble countertops, stainless steel refrigerators and freezers, and large windows that nearly covered one entire wall. In the center of this stood Kristalia, looking dangerously furious. Across from her stood Langley, leaning against one of the counters.

"…just turn your back on everything," Kristalia was saying.

"Do you really want to be doing this?" Langley demanded. "Do you actually want to be fighting this war? Don't you _see_ what it does to people? The way it turns friends and family members against each other? Blood against blood." He paused, then smirked and said, "Ah… but you _do_ know that, don't you?"

Kristalia ran a hand through her hair and nodded. "Yes," she said simply, bluntly. "But that's not a good enough reason to give up."

"Isn't it?" Langley asked mildly. "I'd rather not get myself killed."

"They're not asking you to fight," Kristalia argued. "They're just asking for your help."

"And if Khivar finds out I helped them, he will kill me," Langley pointed out logically. His voice was calm and rational, as though the entire conversation didn't really matter to him. And maybe it didn't. Maybe he had already made up his mind, and was not going to change it.

"He won't kill you if he's dead," Kristalia answered. "He won't kill you if the Royal Four kill him first."

Michael drew back into the hallway and sank to the floor. He sat stiffly, his back against the wall, his legs out in front of him. He was surprised by the conversation, surprised that Kristalia would be asking Langley for help. After all, she had been opposed to this idea all along. She had been the first one to insist that Langley wasn't trustworthy, although, of course, all the Royalists had seemed to agree on that point.

Langley's voice interrupted his thoughts. "And will they? Will the four Royals actually succeed? I can't say I think all that highly of them."

"It was never their fault that you were born to this role," Kristalia muttered. "And they can't change it."

"They could let me live my life," Langley answered.

"They haven't ordered you to do much of anything yet. They certainly haven't ordered you to help them in this war, although they know that they could. They're trying to convince you to help them of your own free will. Doesn't that say something?"

"So you want me to help? You trust me to help?" Langley scoffed. It was clear from his tone of voice that he had easily picked up on Kristalia's suspicion of him. Or perhaps it was something that he had known all along.

"No, I don't trust you," she said harshly. "But I can tell that the King is not going to listen to me. Max won't leave until you talk to him…"

"He's going to have a long time to wait. And I was under the impression that his sister _didn't_ have that much time. Or am I wrong?"

Michael nearly saw red at that comment. How dare Langley say that so carelessly, how dare he not even care that Isabel was suffering?

He twisted and glanced back inside the kitchen. Kristalia was pacing, her body nearly shaking with rage. Langley was gazing at her with contempt in his expression. Michael had no idea if the contempt was for her or the four hybrids, or maybe just for Isabel, but it didn't really matter.

He was starting to hate Langley with a passion.

"And do you know what the irony in all of this is?" Kristalia said bitterly, shaking her head. "The only one actually living up to the title _protector_ right now is Max."

"I never wanted to be a protector," Langley said simply.

"We don't always get what we want," Kristalia answered. Her tone was pained, even Michael could tell that she was thinking about something else, something he didn't understand. But Langley seemed to get it, and he smiled callously in response.

"No, we don't. But this time… this time I _will_ get what I want."

"What about doing what's right, Kal? When did you lose sight of that?" Kristalia asked.

"Lady Courtney was trying to do the right thing," Langley said. "Or, at least, from what I can tell from my sources, she was trying to do what she believed to be the right thing. She didn't mean to harm the human boy… though she did clearly mean to kill the Sheriff. But even that was not premeditated. Knowledge is power, and she wanted the Book, but she didn't _want_ to kill him."

"What's your point?"

"She was really on their side for most of the time. She was trying to help them. Do you think they even understand that? Do you think the four of them can look past her last betrayal to see all that she had done before? She wanted Rath on the throne, and she was willing to manipulate and lie if that was needed, but she and her faction never meant to hurt the four of them… and I don't think she would have even hurt the King, despite the fact that as long as he was alive, the General would not try to claim throne for his own. Do you think they understand that? Do you think they understand that the faction still wants Khivar off the throne, no matter what, and they might actually make decent allies in this?"

"Again, I ask…"

"What my point is? Lady Courtney gave her loyalty to Rath, even though Rath had killed her mother. And perhaps the General was only forced to do that because her mother had joined Khivar and was plotting to kill the King, but it does not change the fact that for a very long time, she followed a man who had murdered one of her family members. But then somewhere a long the way, she ended up hurting them all, even if it wasn't what she wanted. Even if it was never what she intended. All because she was trying to do what she thought to be _right_."

Langley stepped forward, away from the counter. His eyes were burning brightly, and he was leaning towards Kristalia, as though he was determined that she understand this.

"Do you remember how Rath died, Kristalia? Nicolas killed him because the Queen had a choice, and she chose to her save her father instead of the General. Because she believed it was the right choice to make, given how limited her options were. And why did all the Royals die? Why was the palace breached? Because the Princess betrayed them for love. But she really did love Khivar, and she really did think that this was the right thing to do. And you… what crimes have you committed simply because you believe them to be the _right thing_? And you still ask me when I stopped believing _right_ and _wrong_? What has doing the right thing ever gotten any of us besides pain and betrayal and loss?"

"This is a war," Kristalia answered. "This is a war, and the only way to end the pain and betrayal and loss is to end the war. You have friends on Antar, Kal, and you know as well as I do that they will continue to suffer until this is over. Don't you want to stop it? Don't you want to help them?"

"The war will end, and it will end soon. I don't need to get involved."

Kristalia laughed darkly. "And how many of your friends support Khivar?" she demanded. She paused, and Langley said nothing, so she continued, "They are all Royalists, aren't they? And when Khivar wins – which he undoubtedly will unless the Princess can somehow be protected from his visits into her dreams – do you think their suffering will end?"

Langley didn't answer, and Michael turned and walked away, unable to listen any longer.

* * *

Next Chapter: The Man Behind the Curtain

Due: Sun 1/2


	20. The Man Behind the Curtain

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: The title of this chapter (which should be recognizable to a lot of people) is from _The Wizard of Oz_. It referred to the wizard in that story, it refers to Khivar in this one.

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Twenty: The Man Behind the Curtain

The next morning, Max found Langley sitting at a table on the patio in his backyard, staring out at his lemon orchard. The air was slightly cool, but not as cold as might have been expected for an October day in another part of the country. Hollywood, like Roswell, didn't seem to have distinct seasons.

Langley was drinking black tea. There were several wedges of squeezed lemon on his plate.

Max sat down next to him.

"He's smarter than you are, Max, and stronger," Langley said after a long pause. "He always has been, even when you were Zan."

Max blinked a few times. Not only had Langley stopped calling him by the derisive _your Majesty_, but there didn't appear to be any bitterness in his voice at all. But the words were hardly comforting, and even if they were said without a trace of scorn, they were still insulting in content.

But what could Max say? He had no memory of Antar, at least nothing distinct enough to use as a contradiction to what Langley was saying.

"That was part of the problem. Khivar knows how to fight a war, better than you do. Better than even Rath did." He took a sip of his tea, then swirled the cup for a moment, staring down at the dark liquid. "But it is hard to know if he would have won without Vilandra's assistance."

"What is he like?" Max asked.

"Khivar?" Langley sighed and set the cup down. He was still staring at the orchard instead of at Max. "He and Nicolas are the two sons to the Lord of Illyria. Illyria is a province on Antar, a very wealthy one. Wealthier even than the Royal Province where your family lived."

"Was that why he thought he had a claim to the throne?" Max demanded, feeling irrationally angry that even on Anta money could destroy everything.

"Maybe. I don't know his exact justifications. His family was popular, his father especially. And I think people admired the way the family was close-knit."

Max frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The Lord of Illyria died shortly before your wedding to Ava, and Khivar took his father's title. Often, in a family as powerful as that one, jealousy will exist between brothers. Khivar got all the power, and Nicolas got none. They should have been suspicious of each other… but they weren't. Nicolas admired Khivar, revered him. And Khivar adored his younger brother. When Khivar took over his fahter's title, Nicolas supported everything he did. And Khivar made Nicolas his most trusted advisor and his second in command in all things. There was no jealousy and no suspicion… and people saw that, and they respected it. How could they not?"

Langley turned to face Max fully, his expression weary. Max realized with some surprise that the other alien was wearing the same clothing he had been wearing the night before, and wondered if Langley had slept at all. But what could have kept him awake? What could he possibly have been thinking about, given how firmly he had made up his mind not to help them?

Max looked down at the table and thought over what Langley had said. If he didn't know that Khivar had started a brutal and bloody civil war, he would have been predisposed to admire the man for his loyalty to his family.

Langley started speaking again. "Part of Antarian tradition is that the Princess – if there is one – marries the Second in Command. An arranged marriage, unlike yours to Ava, and although it helps to stabilize the planet, it is often loveless. It was for Vilandra and Rath… and Vilandra fell in love with Khivar almost the exact moment that she met him."

"Yes… I know what happened between them," Max said somewhat reluctantly. It was hard to think about what Isabel's past-self had done, but harder still to think about how her present-self was suffering for it.

"Khivar loved her, too. I think… I think he loved her even before he set his sights on your throne," Langley said. "I didn't know him well, though, so I can't say for certain that he wasn't always intending to start civil war. But I don't think that idea occurred to him until after he had taken his father's title."

"Why _did_ he start the war?"

"He wanted power," Langley answered heavily. "They say power corrupts, and that is part of it. He liked having the title, and he wanted more. But… Antar was suffering under your rule. Or, at least, that is what it looked like to him."

"Suffering how?" Max demanded.

"Antar was just on the brink of a Golden Age," Langley explained. "It was peaceful and prosperous, and even the different, competing factions were held together under your control. But we're not like Earth. Power is everything on Antar, and the class system there… Let's just say there are very distinct divisions between social groups. And you tried to… modernize, I guess would be the right word. You tried to bring about some sorts of social reforms. To… equalize. But you didn't do it by trying to get people to agree that equality was the best. You did it by force. You tried to shove it down everyone's throats despite centuries of social norms and a culture that had a very different view… You tried to do too much, and you tried to do it too quickly."

"And Khivar didn't like it?" Max questioned.

"A lot of people didn't like it," Langley answered. "And not just those with power. Even the impoverished, the peasants… you disregarded their cultural beliefs, and it is true that your reforms benefited them, but it still came at the cost of their identity. Khivar was able to capitalize on the growing unease and unrest."

"He wanted to save Antarian culture?"

"He wanted to save his own power," Langley corrected. "Some of us think he might have been content to be the Lord of Illyria if you hadn't made so many changes. If you'd left his power intact… It is hard to know what exactly he would have done, I suppose, but it is a possibility that the war would never have been started."

Max frowned, trying to determine if there was any accusation in those words. Was he being told that he was wrong for what he had done?

Langley continued, "But he had to fight you to keep his power, and at that point, I guess he decided he wanted yours, too. That's all I really know of how this conflict started, but… Kristalia can probably tell you more about him than I can."

That caught Max by surprise. "Kristalia knows Khivar?" he demanded incredulously.

Langley blinked a few times, looking a bit astonished. Then he laughed abruptly and asked, "You don't _know_?"

"Know _what_?" Max asked sharply, a heavy weight settling in his stomach. Was he about to learn that Kristalia wasn't actually loyal to them? Or was he about to learn something even worse?

Langley took another sip of his tea and shook his head in amusement. But the amusement did not reach his eyes, and Max noted briefly that the other alien's grip on the tea mug had tightened so much his knuckles had gone white.

"Antar is a small planet, Max. Far smaller than Earth. And the civil war… it really did turn families against each other. Brother against sister… and not just you and Vilandra. Not just Rath and his brother."

"And Kristalia's family?" Max asked with a feeling of dread.

"Why do you think Kristalia has such a high position among the Royalists? Why do you think they listen to her, follow her? Why do you think she was one of the ones sent to find you? Believe me, it was hardly for her _people skills_."

Max thought of Kristalia's prickly exterior and grinned.

"Her family is from the province of Illyria. She's nobility. Her sister knew Khivar and Nicolas… was friendly with Nicolas. _Very_ friendly." And he lifted his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, making it quite clear to Max what he meant.

"Oh," Max said softly.

"But Kristalia did not support Khivar. She was not as enamored of him as her sister was of Nicolas, and she saw the brothers for who they really were. She agreed with the Royalists, and they wanted her to work as a spy. To deliver information from her sister… She refused. For the longest time, she refused to betray her sister's trust. It annoyed the leading Royalists to know end. She was in the perfect position to be a spy, and was sympathetic to their cause, and yet she refused to help them."

Max accepted this in silence. He didn't know what to say, didn't know how he would have reacted in that situation. He could not comprehend being forced to decide between his morals and his sister, and yet hadn't Isabel argued all along that he might need to do that?

They all knew what Vilandra had done, what Isabel could do if Khivar got to her…

And Khivar _was_ getting to her.

"I was still your protector when all of this was happening, and heard quite a bit about her from you and Rath and the other protectors. You were furious that you could not get her to help you, and so you ordered one of the Royalists to… _convince_ her… that Khivar was evil."

"How?" Max breathed, terrified to hear the answer.

"He dragged her out of the city and took her to a nearby village," Langley explained. "I only know what happened second-hand from other people, but… Khivar had practically massacred the place looking for a Royalist stronghold that was supposedly there. There was blood in the streets, they say, and smoke in the air, and bodies everywhere. Mothers weeping, orphaned children searching for their parents, people dying horrible deaths. Kristalia had never seen carnage like that. We don't usually send civilians to battlefields." He gave Max a long stare, and then said, "Needless to say, when she saw what Khivar was doing, when she really understood… she agreed to spy on them. To gather information from her sister."

"Who was the Royalist who took her out there?" Max asked. "To the village?"

Langley took another sip of tea. "Nasedo. He was friendly with her and… and that was back when you trusted him. Before people in your army started worrying he was more interested in helping himself than in helping any of you."

Max contemplated that bit of information in silence. He had not been particularly surprised when the Royalists had first informed him that Nasedo was not supposed to be the original protector on their ship and something had gone wrong. But Courtney had claimed to killing Nasedo, and so Max had not given much thought to the shape-shifter's true loyalties in a while. After all, what did it matter if he was dead?

He turned his attention back to Langley. "And what happened to her sister? Is she still alive?"

Langley shook his head. "She was killed in an attack on Nicolas' home a long time ago. Not too long before the four of you were killed. You ordered the attack, and Rath lead the troops… they say Rath killed her himself, although I have no idea if that is actually true." He gave Max another long, steady look. "She was an invaluable ally to you, and I have no doubt that you would have died much earlier and without a chance at reincarnation if not for her. Still… though she might agree with your morals, but I don't think she really _likes_ any of you," he said sardonically.

Max pushed his chair back, and the legs scraped against the patio. He got to his feet and moved away from Langley, towards the half-fence that surrounded the patio and separated them from the orchard. A few steps led down to a dirt path that eventually wound its way through the trees.

What would it be like, he wondered with vague interest, to not be able to taste?

It wasn't a question he could answer, of course, but it was easier than thinking about anything Langley had said. He had never felt particularly comfortable around Kristalia, but now he had to consider the possibility that it was due in part to the fact that she might not have felt particularly comfortable around him. How much anger and animosity did she harbor for him, and how should she possibly still agree to work with him?

Could he ever work with someone who killed Isabel, even if Isabel had joined Khivar?

It was sickening to think about.

As though reading his thoughts, Langley said sharply, "This is a war, Max, and there is nothing about it that is fair or just. War is bloody and messy and painful, especially a civil war. It tears people apart."

Max faced him again. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you insist on fighting it," Langley answered. "And you should know what will happen to you if you do."

Max rubbed the back of his head absently and said with some frustration, "It's not like I have a choice. It's not like I _want_ to be fighting this war."

"You never did. Sometimes, Max, I'm not even sure you wanted to be King." He drained the last of his tea and leaned back in his chair regarding Max seriously. "Would you order me to help you even if you knew I didn't want to?"

"Kristalia says you can't be trusted," Max replied, even though he knew it wasn't actually an answer to the question Langley had been asking. Langley wanted to know if Max would let go of his morals long enough to do whatever necessary to win this war.

Which made Max wonder, briefly, if Langley even realized that right now this wasn't about the war. It was about Isabel.

Langley just smiled. "Yes, I can imagine that Kristalia wouldn't think much of me, but I also have to question her motives on that one. I think she is actually just jealous. I left while you were still fighting the war. I was able to escape. She wasn't."

"That's says more about your lack of morals than about her jealousy," Max snapped.

Langley shrugged. "Perhaps. But you still haven't answered my question."

Max ran a hand through his air and took a shaky breath. "Would I order you to do something against your will? To save Isabel? I don't know. Maybe."

Langley sighed. "Your hesitation might make you a good person, Max, but it is also the reason Khivar is stronger and smarter than you are. He would have no qualms about doing anything." He narrowed his eyes slightly and said with a bitter chuckle, "Like I said, the more you embrace your alien side, the more you have to lose. In this case, you'll end up having to choose between your sister and your soul."

"You really won't help us," Max asked.

Langley shook his head. "No, I won't. But I will tell you this much, Max. If there is a way to fight off Khivar, to get him to leave your sister alone, it is through her dreams. He has chosen that as his current battlefield because he thinks he's stronger there, but he's only strong because, right now, she is weak. She's scared, she's tired. She's not fighting back."

"She's afraid of Vilandra," Max answered.

"We all are," Langley replied. "But she's going to have to face Khivar in the end, there is no escape from that. So she needs to get over her fear… or you will all lose."

* * *

"Ms. Evans, a moment of your time, please."

Isabel glanced up as she stuffed her notebook into her backpack, a frown already forming on her features. She had no idea what the teacher could want, and Maria, who was just leaving the room, hesitated as well. She locked eyes with the pixie blonde for a moment, then turned and walked towards the teacher's desk, forcing a smile to her features.

The dreams had continued to plague her, and Max and Michael's extended absence did little to help. Her worry for them was making it hard for her to relax, even if those brief moments when Khivar was not in her mind, calling to her. She was exhausted and scared and it seemed like nothing would work out right.

"Yes?" she asked, swinging her backpack onto one shoulder and meeting the teacher's concerned gaze.

"Your brother was not in class today," the teacher said. "It's October. We've only been in school for a month, and he's already skipping classes."

"I don't know where he is," Isabel answered with a shrug.

The teacher sighed. "Isabel, your brother is a very promising student with a very promising future. And I would hate to get your parents involved in this. But please tell him that if he does not show up for class and concentrate on his studies, he will not pass. And then he won't have a future."

Isabel nodded. "I'll let him know," she promised, even though she knew perfectly well that it would do no good. They had other things to worry about, and if Max wasn't concentrating on his studies, it was because he was concentrating on how to win this war.

But she couldn't explain that to this teacher.

"I want what is best for him," the teacher said gently. "I know it is often hard to concentrate during senior year, but he's not out of school yet. He still has several months to go, and I don't want to see him throw away all the hard work of the past three years."

Isabel chewed her lip. "I'll tell him," she said quietly. What else could she do but nod in agreement and pretend like what the teacher was saying mattered?

"Thank you," the teacher said.

Isabel nodded almost jerkily, and then turned and hurried from the room.

Maria was waiting for her in the hall, an apprehensive look in her eyes. Isabel felt a little unsure how to respond to that. She and Maria had not been on the best of terms for the entire summer, and recently Maria had seemed almost suspicious of her for reasons Isabel couldn't fathom. But she remembered the conversation with Tess, the admission that they'd lost sight of what it meant to be a group…

"She just wanted to tell me that Max needs to come to class," Isabel explained in a low voice, "or he won't have a future."

Maria nodded once. "Okay." She glanced around the hallway for a moment, then asked tentatively, "Any word from Max or Michael?"

Isabel raised an eyebrow. She'd gotten a brief message from Max last night letting her know that they were all at Langley's house and were safe – at least for the moment. Had Michael not at least let Maria know the same?

"They're at Langley's," she answered, "but I don't know any more than that. Max didn't say anything else."

"Oh. Alright." Maria looked around the hallway again, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "So… how are the college applications going?" she asked after a moment, and it was clear she was just attempting to make small talk.

"Uh… fine, I guess. I mean, I wrote my personal statement finally, and I've picked all the schools I want to apply to, so I just need to finish filling out the rest of the forms and get the letters of recommendation and…" She stopped, tilting her head to the side. "How about you?"

"I picked a couple creative arts programs to apply to," Maria answered, "but I haven't had time to really get started on everything yet. Where do you find the time to work on stuff?"

Isabel ran a hand through her long blonde hair, a smile fixing to her face. She knew her smiles no longer reached her eyes, and even Trudy had noticed that something was wrong. It would only be a matter of time before other people noticed – teachers, students, and the like – and she had no idea how she would explain her exhaustion or the constant circles under her eyes.

At least for a while she would be able to say she was pulling all-nighters for school or college applications, but soon even that excuse would wear out.

Although, to be fair, it had taken her a while to figure out what to write for her personal statement. She'd spent hours staring at the questions, trying to come up with a simple, truthful explanation for who she was. One that would not get her sent to a mental hospital. Or the white room.

In the end, she'd chosen to write about being adopted, about struggling to define her identity when she didn't have any idea where she had come from, and addressed her fears that she wouldn't actually like her biological family – or herself, given that she came from them – if she ever got the chance to meet them. It seemed almost trite and probably overdone by many of the applicants who were adopted, but it was the best way to capture who she was and who she wanted to be.

"Isabel?" Maria prompted when Isabel didn't answer.

Isabel blinked. "Oh… I work on stuff at night a lot. I… I haven't really been sleeping much."

Maria fiddled with the bag she was carrying in her hands. "Yeah. Well… Max and Michael will find something."

Isabel didn't answer. She saw no reason to admit to Maria that she didn't actually believe that.

* * *

"Beth. _Beth_! Wake up, come on. Just wake up."

Liz bolted upright in bed, her breath leaving her body in a sudden, sharp exhale. For a moment, it was as though she could not remember to inhale, and her heart beat frantically in her chest as she struggled for oxygen. She finally took a deep, shuddering breath, and nearly passed out from relief as the air entered her lungs.

Eileen was standing over her, both hands on her shoulders, and it was clear that she had shaken Liz to wake her up. It was also clear that she had been smoking, and the smell lingered in the air.

"I need…" Liz moved jerkily, throwing the blankets off her body and stumbling to standing. Her bare feet hit the ground, and she reached out to steady herself against the wall. "I need to… air… I need…" And she stumbled towards the door.

"Beth, it was just a nightmare," Eileen protested, "and it's well past curfew. Besides, where are you going to go?"

Liz stopped. The fact that it was past curfew would not bother Eileen, but they both knew that it did bother Liz. She turned away from the door and walked to the window instead, yanking it open. The cold night air rushed into the room, and Eileen muttered something under her breath and grabbed the blanket from her bed, wrapping it around her shoulders.

Liz sank to the floor and sat there, legs pulled into her chest, arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

It was there, right before her. She closed her eyes, and the dream came back in horrible, vivid detail. Max's tear-stained face floated before her, and she could hear his shaky breaths, the sobs that caught in his throat.

She was dimly aware of Eileen slipping out of the room into the dark hallway. Moonlight lit up the sky and poured in through the window, and an owl's distant call echoed in the night. But it all seemed so far away from her, and so incredibly irrelevant.

Her mind was in Roswell.

It had been more than just a dream. She couldn't explain how she knew that, but she _did_ know. This was real, like the flashes she received from kissing Max. Only this hadn't happened yet, but it would happen… she _knew_ it would happen.

But how was that possible? And what did it even mean?

She closed her eyes. Max was kicking over trashcans, his body shaking with rage. She could see him, glimpses of his anger and grief, and she had no idea what it meant. The images were jumbled, and they came and went too quickly for her to understand what exactly it was she saw…

"Beth?"

It was Maggie. Eileen must have gone to get her, assuming that something was really wrong.

Liz opened her eyes and looked up at her friend. Maggie had been so nice and sweet and caring, and here she was, breaking curfew, kneeling next to Liz, worried. But what could Liz tell her? What could Liz say that would make any of this comprehensible?

Even she didn't know what was going on.

Except that something bad was going to happen in Roswell, and it was going to happen soon.

* * *

The Next Chapter: Of Nightmares and Dreams

Due: Sun 1/9


	21. Of Nightmares and Dreams

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One: Of Nightmares and Dreams

"So… you had a dream about your friends back home?" Maggie asked hesitantly, tilting her head to the side and regarding Liz with some concern. "And… that is what got you all upset? But it's just a nightmare."

Liz ran a hand through her hair and nodded. "I know. I know, but…" But it wasn't just a nightmare. It really, _really_ wasn't just a nightmare. And something was dangerously wrong.

Eileen was perched on the edge of her bed, and she said casually, "You kept saying the name Max over and over. He a friend of yours?"

"He is… was… my boyfriend," Liz admitted reluctantly. She'd left him completely out of any backstory she'd given to her friends, and so was not surprised to see Maggie's eyebrows rise questioningly or Eileen's smile turn into a smirk.

"I thought your last boyfriend was Kyle Something-or-Other," Maggie argued.

"After Kyle and I broke up, I started dating Max. We dated off and on for sophomore and junior year," Liz explained. "He… he's part of the reason that I left Roswell."

"Roswell?" Eileen repeated, and Maggie's eyebrows rose even further. Too late, Liz remembered that she had told them she was from California. She'd managed to keep that secret for so long, but now the lies seemed to be unraveling, and she was too tired and too worried to bother stopping them.

Her mind kept going back to the dream and the fear in her chest could have been irrational panic, but she did not actually believe that it was.

She buried her face in her hands and tried to think.

"Beth?" Maggie prompted. "Tell us about this… this Max guy. Did he hurt you? Is that why you left?"

Liz looked up sharply. "No. I mean… well, yes, he did hurt me. But not in the way that you're thinking. Max was never violent or… or anything like that. We just…"

Maggie wrapped an arm around Liz in a comforting gesture, and Liz was grateful for her support, but couldn't help wishing that it was Maria or Alex there instead.

"What happened?" Eileen asked as she lit a cigarette.

Liz let out a long breath. "At the end of last year, there was a car accident. The Sheriff… who happened to be Kyle's father… was killed. And one of my best friends was in a coma. We thought… we thought he wasn't going to make it."

She felt the tears burning in her eyes and wondered how her emotions had swung so far out of control. Alex had survived, and merely mentioning his name should not upset her this much. Or was it the Sheriff she was thinking of, and the loss of his life that was causing her to cry?

Or maybe she was just remembering everything that had happened afterwards, and how it had torn the group apart.

She chewed her lower lip for a moment, feeling a surge of rage against Courtney. She did not regret taking the deal and saving Alex's life, and she did not regret convincing everyone else to do the same. But she wanted to kill Courtney. She really, truly wanted to murder the rebel skin.

She forced herself to continue the story. "Max and I got into an argument about it. About Alex. It seemed like… like he was willing to give up on Alex. And I wasn't. We did and said a lot of things that… that maybe we shouldn't have, and…"

She wiped at her eyes with the back of one hand. There was no way to finish the story without including Courtney's betrayal, and so she lapsed into silence.

"But Alex woke up? I mean… is he okay now?" Maggie questioned.

Liz nodded once. "It's… it's more complicated than that, though. The car accident wasn't really an accident… I mean… one of our… friends… had caused it but didn't admit to it…"

"A hit and run?" Eileen asked with a low whistle, clearly assuming it was some sort of car crash. "That's a serious crime, especially when someone gets killed."

Liz blinked. "Yeah," she whispered. "She left town… she was never caught. And the whole thing just… just really tore apart my group of friends. That's why I left. Not just because of Max, but because of all of it. I needed to get out of Roswell. It hurt too much to stay."

"But now you're having nightmares about Max?"

"About all of them," Liz answered. "About them getting hurt."

"Like another car crash?" Maggie pressed. "But… I think that's probably normal, Beth. I mean, you clearly still care about them, and because of what happened last year, some part of you is still worried. But it's just a nightmare. It's not real, they're not going to get hurt."

Liz sniffed. If only that were actually true.

"You can always talk to the counselor about it," Eileen suggested. "I mean, she's crazy like all shrinks, but whatever. It might help."

The air in the room was now heavy with the scent of smoke, and Maggie wrinkled her nose in distaste. Eileen rolled her eyes at Maggie and blew a puff of smoke towards the blonde. Liz, meanwhile, glanced up at the ceiling and wondered vaguely why Eileen's smoking hadn't set off the smoke detectors yet.

"It was Max's name you kept saying," Eileen said after a pause. "Not anyone else's. Doesn't seem to me like you're really over him."

"He hurt her," Maggie said pointedly.

"You said it was an argument. You said that you both said things you shouldn't have," Eileen countered, looking at Liz thoughtfully. "So did you hurt him, too?"

"Probably," Liz whispered. She couldn't quite bring herself to admit it, even though she knew the answer to that question was a definite _yes_. She had hurt Max… but he'd hurt her, too, and she'd only wanted to find a way to save Alex. That had been the most important thing in the world to her.

So why hadn't it been as important to Max?

"Look, if he's a complete jerk, then whatever. You're clearly better off without him. But if you're having nightmares about him getting hurt, then you _aren't_ over him. So that's where we should start. Do you have any belongings of his? We could burn them. Or… oh, voodoo! We could get a voodoo doll and castrate him!"

Liz laughed. Eileen, as usual, was reminding her of Maria. A slightly more violent version of Maria.

"I have a sewing kit in my room," Maggie said with a grin. "It has pins and needles in it. So all we need is a doll."

"That shouldn't be too hard to find," Eileen said thoughtfully. "We can probably even make one."

The horror of the dream was slowly fading, although some part of Liz was already determined to call Maria and make sure that everyone in Roswell was actually safe. It was hard to be scared now, with the lights on and Maggie and Eileen with her, but it didn't mean that she was completely able to let of the nagging voice in the back of her head, the whispered words that something was still wrong.

"Honest question, though," Eileen said thoughtfully, giving Liz a long look. "Max… he wasn't abusive, right? He didn't maliciously try to hurt you? He didn't… it wasn't about getting control over you? He wasn't horrible to you during the rest of the two years you guys were dating?"

Liz shook her head. "No. Max wasn't any of those things. It was just the fight…"

"But you didn't tell us about him. You wrote him out of your life completely when you made up this new history," Eileen prompted.

Liz shrugged. "It hurt to think about him."

"Does it hurt because you want to get over him, or does it hurt because you want to be with him?"

Liz didn't answer. In her dream, something bad had happened. And she didn't know what it was, but she knew that it had brought Max to tears, that he was falling apart because of it. Someone in the group could have died, could be dying…

And it was Max that she was worried about.

So didn't that make the answer to Eileen's question rather obvious?

* * *

"So you ran off to talk to an alien shape-shifter who couldn't actually tell you anything helpful," Maria said, staring hard at Michael as she stacked several bottles of ketchup onto a tray and carried them into the backroom. She wasn't quite able to keep the anger at of her tone, but at this point, she didn't know what she was angry about. Alex was with Isabel, Max was filling Tess in on everything they had learned, and that left her alone at the Crashdown with Michael, and with no idea what to say to him.

He'd told her everything they'd learned – or, rather, everything they _hadn't_ learned – and as far as she could tell, they were now all planning on invading Isabel's dreams that very night. As soon as Michael was done talking to her.

"It wasn't a complete waste of time," Michael argued, following her. "We were able to learn a few things about Khivar. And now we know that the only way to stop him from hurting Isabel is to attack him through her dreams."

"According to Langley, who can't be trusted," Maria said.

They were standing in the kitchen, and she glanced around. The diner had long since closed for the evening and everything was cleaned and put away. The bottles of ketchup had been the last items needing to be cleared. Some of them needed to be refilled, but that was usually done in the morning by whoever worked the early shift.

She sighed. She didn't really want to leave. The Crashdown was one of the few places were Liz's presence lingered, and it was almost as though she could hear her best friend walking around with her, making jokes and gossiping and commiserating with her problems.

"We know he can't be trusted," Michael agreed, interrupting his thoughts. "But this is our only chance."

"I still think you should have let me come with you," Maria said.

Michael gave her a brief, annoyed look, then said with a frown, "It's too dangerous."

"It's always too dangerous," Maria countered. "But I thought we were in this together." She turned and walked away from him, over to the grill. It was pristine and perfectly clean, but she still grabbed a towel and ran it over the metal surface, pretending to wipe away the day's accumulation of grease.

"We _are_ in this together," Michael agreed. "But that doesn't mean you should take stupid risks."

Her eyes darted to his face. She couldn't read his expression, and it bothered her. They had been so close over the summer, but now it was almost as though she didn't know him anymore. What had happened? How had this all changed?

"You took a stupid risk. You and Max both. And now the four of you are considering doing it again, taking Langley's advice and confronting Khivar."

Michael threw his hands into the air in frustration. "It's _Isabel_, Maria. What do you want me to do? What do you want me to say? We can't just… just not do anything."

"I'm not suggesting that you do nothing," Maria snapped.

She leaned against the wall. Max had clearly convinced Michael to see his point of view at least a little. The normally stoic hybrid seemed ready to jump into anything to save Isabel, and even if he was clearly still annoyed at Max for all of this, he was willing to trust Langley.

"Then what _are_ you suggesting?" Michael asked in a weary voice.

"Don't shut me out," Maria said.

"I'm _not_."

"_Yes_, yes you are," Maria retorted angrily. "God, Michael, when did you start taking Kristalia with you instead of me? When did you start only caring about Isabel?"

"When I decided I didn't want to risk your life on a reckless mission," Michael answered furiously. "When I decided that you couldn't really help out on this particular mission, anyway. When Isabel started having dreams that are driving her insane and when the Royalists couldn't come up with an answer. This isn't really about you, Maria. This isn't even about _us_. This is about Isabel and Khivar and the war and I am _trying_ to do what is best."

"You don't think I can help?" Maria repeated, shaking her head and backing away from him. "What, I'm not _alien_ enough for you?"

Michael scratched his eyebrow. He had a helpless look on his face, and his shoulders sagged some as he stared at her. "That's not what I meant," he said tiredly, "and you know it."

She averted her gaze. "I need to get home," she said. She walked around him, towards the door of the kitchen, then paused and looked back. "I really hope this works, Michael. I hope this helps Isabel."

She didn't wait for a response, but instead quickly pushed the door open and stepped out of the kitchen. Michael didn't follow her, and she stood in the main part of the diner for a moment, suddenly exhausted. She desperately wished Liz was there.

Maybe she would call Liz when she got home.

But it was late, she realized, and with the time difference, it would be even later where Liz was. No doubt her best friend was fast asleep. There was no reason to wake her up, especially not so that she could listen to Maria complain for a while. She would call in the morning, or maybe after school.

And hopefully Liz would be able to explain what was happening to her, because she had no idea.

She got home a little while later and poked her head into the kitchen to see her mother sitting at the table, waiting for her. Amy usually went to bed earlier than this, but ever since the Sheriff's death, whenever Maria worked the last shift at the Crashdown, she stayed up to make sure her daughter got home safely.

Maria wondered vaguely if her mother was expecting another car crash, another cruel twist of fate to take away someone that she loved.

"I'm home, Mom," she said.

Amy looked up with a smile and tears in her eyes. "Good. It's late, and I don't really like you working this late on a school night. Can't Jim switch you to the afternoon?"

Maria shrugged. She didn't really mind the evening shift, but if it bothered her mother, she was willing to make the change, at least for a little while. "I'll ask Mr. Parker about it," she promised.

Amy got up and walked over to Maria. "Thank you," she said, kissing Maria on the forehead. And she wandered past Maria towards her own bedroom.

Maria sat down at the kitchen table and glanced up at the ceiling. She really wished there was someone she could talk to…

As if on cue, her cell phone began to ring. She pulled it out of her pocket and stared at the caller ID, eyebrows raising into her hairline at the sight of Liz's name. She flipped the phone open immediately, her own problems fading into the back of her mind. She was scared, suddenly. Scared for Liz.

What would cause Liz to call her this late at night?

"Lizzie? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I don't have a whole lot of time," Liz said in a rushed voice, her words running together. "Eileen and Maggie went to see what they could find to use to make a voodoo doll and they'll be back soon."

"A… wait… _what_?"

"Is anyone hurt?" Liz asked, ignoring Maria's question.

"Hurt?" Maria echoed. "I don't… I mean, Isabel is, but… but that's different, that's not really hurt…" She knew she wasn't making much sense, but Liz wasn't either, and her sense of foreboding was rapidly growing. "Liz, what's going on?"

She heard Liz sigh on the other end of the line. "I don't… I don't know. I had a dream. I think… in my dream, someone died. And Max was really upset about it. What's going on with Isabel?"

Maria propped one elbow up on the table and said, "It's just a dream, right? I mean, just a nightmare. You're not Czechoslovakian, Liz. You don't have crazy premonitions or whatever."

"It's more than a dream. I can't explain it, Maria. I just… I just need you to believe me. I _know_ it is more than just a dream." Liz's voice was firm and unyielding, but there was an underlying sense of pleading, a desperate need for Maria to believe what she was saying.

Maria sighed. "Yeah… okay. I believe you." She wasn't sure if that was actually true or if she was just humoring Liz. The very idea that Liz might have some weird power was just too much for her to handle at the moment, but Liz clearly needed someone to talk to. And she seemed so sure of herself, so completely convinced that what she had dreamt would come true.

"What's going on with Isabel?" Liz asked again.

"I don't even know how to explain it," Maria answered honestly. "Khivar has been invading her dreams. Keeping her from sleeping well, I guess. They think he's trying to drive her insane. Michael and the others are going to try to fight him off. They're going into Isabel's dreams tonight."

"Is it dangerous?" Liz asked worriedly. "Could one of them get hurt?"

Maria chewed her lip. "I think so," she admitted. She and Michael had skirted that issue in their argument, but she knew that the Royalists had apparently alluded to the dangers involved in fighting Khivar this way. Michael had told her that much.

But she also knew that none of them would care. As far as the other three hybrids were concerned, this was the only option. And they had a point. As Tess had said multiple times, Isabel wasn't getting any better.

"What exactly did you see in your dream?" she asked.

"I don't know. I mean… I know that someone died. And Max was really upset about it. I saw him crying, and throwing and kicking things. He was really… I could _feel_ his pain. He was angry and furious… and he felt helpless. Like it was his fault. Like he should have been able to stop it."

Maria swallowed uneasily. She didn't like the way that sounded.

* * *

"I don't think I can sleep with everyone staring at me," Isabel said uneasily. She appreciated the fact that everyone seemed to want to help out, but it was odd to be lying on her bed while Max, Michael, Tess, Alex, her parents, Ahab, Kristalia, and a handful of Royalsts she didn't recognize crowded into her bedroom.

"We could always sedate you," Tess suggested with a faint smile.

Isabel rolled her eyes. "You're not helping."

The smaller blonde shrugged. "Wasn't really trying to."

"I still don't like this," Diane spoke up from where she stood in the corner of the room. Her eyes had not once left Isabel, not even as several unknown aliens filed into her daughter's room. Her expression was filled with concern and wariness, and her gaze was firm and hard.

Isabel pushed herself into a sitting position. "It's the only way, Mom," she said. "You and Dad… you really shouldn't be here for it. You can't… you can't help fight him, and you don't need to witness…"

Diane pursed her lips. "Alex is here to offer moral support, isn't he?" she asked sharply. "If he can help you, then certainly your father and I can, too."

Isabel nodded and wished she could better explain what she meant. She knew her mother would take her statement as an insult of some kind, as though she thought her parents couldn't help her. But it was more than that. Alex had been through all of this, Alex knew what they were up against. At least, he knew as well as any of them did. Her parents didn't know, not really. And she still wanted to protect them from that, from the reality of this war.

They had no way of knowing if they would come out of this unharmed. And she didn't really want her parents to be witnesses to this if something went wrong.

But before she could come up with a good way of explaining this, Max was speaking again. "So… are you sure Isabel can pull us into her dreams? It is a bit different from dream-walking, isn't it?"

"A little bit," Ahab agreed, looking between Max and Isabel. "But similar enough that she still has the power. All she needs to do is channel it."

Isabel bit back a laugh at his words. He said it so simply, as though accessing an unused, heretofore unknown gift, was nothing out of the ordinary.

"So she'll bring all of us in to her mind?" Michael asked, looking around the room.

"Yes," Ahab answered. "If Kal is right," and here there was a bit of murmuring from many of the Royalists, "then this is where the battle must take place. The four of you can face Khivar, and the rest of us will do our best to protect you."

Alex took both of Isabel's hands in his own and said quietly, "I'll be right here, right by your side. Waiting for you to come back. Okay?"

Isabel nodded slowly. "Okay," she murmured.

"Are you ready?" Max asked, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

"No," Isabel answered honestly. "Do we have to… I mean, this is so soon. So rushed. Max, you just got back from visiting Langley. Can't… can't we wait?"

"Do you really want another night of having him in your dreams?" Max countered gently.

Isabel couldn't really argue with that logic. The sooner they faced Khivar, the sooner she would be able to sleep again. And they would have to do this eventually. The fight was inevitable, so why put it off? Why force her to wait any longer than absolutely necessary?

And yet… she _didn't_ feel ready. How could she face him? How could she face _herself_?

"We'll be right there, by your side," Michael promised.

Isabel nodded and leaned back against the headboard of her bed. "Okay," she said. "Okay." Alex let go of her hands and moved off the bed, and Michael took his place, with Tess crawling over Isabel to sit on the opposite edge of the mattress. The four hybrids took each other's hands, forming a ring, and then the Royalists moved closer, resting their own hands on the shoulders of Max and Michael. Forming a connection. A unit.

Alex stood at the foot of the bed with Diane and Philip just a few steps behind him. He met Isabel's gaze and held it, refusing to look away even as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pulling herself and the others into her dreams.

_It was dark._

_An expanse of endless black, a void. Isabel was the first to appear, stepping into her dreams without any hesitation. A moment later Tess appeared and dropped Isabel's hand, walked away from her, looking around._

"_Where are the others?" Isabel asked nervously._

"_You and I are used to being inside people's heads," Tess answered, looking back at her friend. "Max and Michael aren't, so it will take them a little longer to acclimate… Just give them a moment."_

_Almost as soon as she had stopped speaking, Max appeared, bringing Ahab with him. And a moment after that, Michael burst into the darkness, still holding tightly to Isabel and Max. The rest of the Royalists came with him, and he immediately dropped the hands of the two hybrids and tensed, ready for an attack._

"_Khivar isn't here," Michael said._

"_Give him time," Isabel answered. "He never shows up right away, but he _always_ shows up. He'll come."_

_They were silent for a little while. It felt like forever to Isabel, like hours and hours. But she knew it wasn't. She knew it was probably no more than a few minutes, but her anxiety and her tension made even seconds feel as though they stretched into eternity. The darkness hung over her, over all of them, and all they could do was wait._

_But she felt the change before it happened and knew what she would see. She had only a brief split-second to warn the others, a hurried, "He's coming," before the emptiness around her was filled in, a floor and walls and windows all appearing as though by magic._

_In some ways, she thought bitterly, it was a kind of magic. Khivar's gifts, his abilities, used against them all._

_They were standing in the corridor again, and Khivar was at the other end, partially concealed by the fluttering black curtain of one of the windows._

"_You're not alone, VIlandra," he said as he stepped forward into the light. His eyes washed over the others carelessly, landing on Max. A smirk touched Khivar's lips, and then he laughed and looked away, shaking his head. "Come to fight me, have you?"_

_But thought his entire posture and expression oozed confidence and smug superiority, there was a wariness in his eyes, a sign that this was not what he had expected. He seemed hesitant, unsure if he should attack or withdraw. He was sorely outnumbered, but he still had the home-court advantage here, even in Isabel's mind. He was the one controlling the dream, after all._

_Max stepped forward, standing in front of Isabel. Between her and Khivar. "You are going to leave my sister alone," he ordered viciously, eyes narrowed. "You are going to get out of her dreams, and you are going to _stay_ out."_

"_Am I, Zan?" Khivar asked with a laugh. "She's _my_ love, not _your_ sister."_

"_I am not Vilandra anymore," Isabel snarled angrily, splotches of color appearing on her cheeks. "I won't betray my family. I won't join you. Ever."_

"_So you've come to fight me," Khivar said. "And what if I don't want to fight?"_

"_Don't let him leave, Princess," one of the Royalists whispered urgently, "or we may never get another chance."_

_Isabel nodded to show that she had heard the warning, and extended her hand. Ahab had been convinced that she could control what happened in her dream, that once Khivar entered, she could keep him here long enough for them to fight. And Max and Michael had supported her as well, had told her that she could do this. But she didn't know _how_._

_And that made quite a bit of difference._

_Still, focusing all her energy on Khivar, she attempted to latch onto his spirit, to his presence. She felt something shift in her chest, and then her hand was burning. It felt like she was holding pure fire in her palm, and it _hurt_, but her fingers wrapped around something. She couldn't explain it, because she could see her hand and she knew that it was closing around nothing at all – just air – but it _felt_ different. It felt like she had something trapped._

Someone_ trapped._

"_That's right," Tess said approvingly. "Just hold on to him, Izzy. This is your dream. Don't let him go."_

_Khivar chuckled. "Very good, Lonnie. You're learning, I see. But the power you have just makes you even more enticing. Perhaps it is the thrill of the chase?" He took a step closer to her, and though she could keep him trapped in her dream until she woke up, she had no idea how to stop him from coming closer._

_Her heart started hammering in her chest._

"_I thought you didn't have to chase me," Isabel said. "I thought I already belonged to you? Isn't that what you keep saying?"_

"_And you _listen_," Khivar laughed. "How wonderful."_

_Without warning, Michael raised both hands and flung a burst of energy at the ceiling above Khivar. The stone exploded, raining fragments down towards Khivar. But the skin king merely looked up and flicked one wrist, freezing everything in place._

"_Is that the best you can do?" he mocked. Then he pointed at Michael, and the stones above him flew towards the hybrid General with alarming speed. Only Max's quick reflections in conjuring a shield protected them, and even he stumbled backwards under the strength of the stone hitting his force-field._

"_This may be Vilandra's dream," Khivar continued, advancing on them, "but I am the one who controls it. I can do anything, access any power. Do you really think you can stop me?" And, as though to prove his point, he spread his arms wide and the dream changed. The corridor slipped away, and he and Isabel were standing alone in the desert._

_The others were nowhere in sight._

"_What did you do to them?" Isabel demanded, fear coloring her tone. "Where are they?"_

_Khivar smiled. "Does it matter, love?" He advanced on her slowly, and she couldn't find the power to back away. She stood still, frozen in horror. Where were the others? Max, Michael, Tess… the Royalists. Where was her family?_

_Khivar's fingers wrapped around her wrist, pulling him towards her. "The more you use your powers, Vilandra, the more you connect with your alien half," he said softly, his voice low and sultry. "And the more you connect with your alien half, the more you connect with me."_

_She ripped her arm from his grasp. "I hate you," she spat, venom in her words. "I hate everything about you. You are my enemy, Khivar, and I will kill you if I have to."_

_He turned away from her. "You won't," he said, and he said it with such firm belief, without even the slightest bit of doubt in his tone. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him that he was wrong, but she couldn't form the words. She back away, arms wrapped around her chest, and tried to focus on her powers._

_She knew she was still holding him in her mind. And this was her dream. She could control it. She could fight him._

"_There's only one way out, Vilandra," Khivar murmured, facing her once more. "Wake up. Wake yourself up and get out of this dream."_

_But she shook her head. If she did that, she would be releasing her hold on Khivar. He would leave, he would escape. And the next time he visited her, he might bring reinforcements. An army of skins. She had to fight him now, while he was still alone. Otherwise…_

_She didn't want to think about what would happen to her – to all of them – if she failed.

* * *

_

Next Chapter: The Beginning of the End

Due: 1/16


	22. The Beginning of the End

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Beginning of the End

"What happened? Where's Isabel? What's going on?"

Max's panicked voice echoed in the corridor as he began to search frantically, rushing up and down the hallway. It was almost absurd, watching him check behind the curtains and in the shadows. It was clear that Isabel was no longer there, that she simply could not be hiding anywhere. And yet he continued his frantic rushing, as though the very act of looking would cause her to appear.

Michael swallowed uneasily, fear coalescing in his stomach. This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to stay together, all of them. The whole point of this was to confront Khivar as a team, not to leave Isabel on her own.

"Khivar is controlling the dream," Ahab said slowly. "He must have used that to separate her from us." He looked around with a quietly speculative expression, and Michael felt the sudden urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until the calm look on his face was gone. Didn't he realize that Isabel was in danger?

"How do we get her back?" Max demanded, spinning around to glare at Ahab. "How did this even happen in the first place? How is Khivar doing this?"

"He's manipulating her dreams, Max," Tess said in a tight voice. "You heard what he said just a moment ago. He can do anything he wants here." Her normally pale face was even more devoid of color, and the look in her eyes clearly displayed her fear.

Max turned in circles, still looking, still obviously hoping to find Isabel hidden somewhere in the hallway.

"Well, can we somehow change her dreams?" Michael asked.

"You don't have that particular gift," Kristalia answered. "None of us do." Michael gave her a questioning look and she explained, "It is a rare gift, just like healing. Yours and Tess' are more common, but those two… And Khivar is strong. Even if we did have the gift, we might not be strong enough to change what he is doing. It's Isabel's dream, she's the one who has to fight him."

"But we were supposed to be with her when she was fighting him!" Max hissed furiously. He spread his arms wide, indicating the hallway around them. "And she's not here, is she? Neither of them are!"

"Yelling at Kristalia isn't going to help," Michael said pointedly, even though some part of him was more than a little annoyed by this turn of events. Why hadn't she warned them that Khivar could do this? Why hadn't she or Ahab or any of the other Royalists been able to predict…

"And neither is standing around here discussing all the ways in which Khivar is stronger than I am," Max snapped in reply. "I've already heard that from Langley, and right now, I'd rather focus on finding my sister."

"Oh, _now_ you want to do something," Michael grumbled under his breath. "Now you're all about action, but the last twelve years it was just stay hidden, act normal, wait and see…" He knew his comment was kind of childish but it didn't matter, because Max was lashing out at him and he was going to respond. The stress of Isabel being gone – and maybe hurt, injured, scared – was making him irritable.

And, anyway, he knew he could always count on Tess yelling at both of them, insulting both of them, and then demanding that they focus on the problem at hand.

Sure enough…

"Shut up, both of you," Tess spat. "God, you're like whining children. How do either of you ever manage to function in life?" Turning away from them both, she crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head, regarding Ahab. "Are you telling us there is no way we can reach Isabel?"

"I'm not sure," Ahab answered. He glanced over at another Royalist. "You know more about this, what do you think?"

The Royalist in question frowned and replied, "The only possibility that comes to mind is using mind-warp. The Queen can combine her powers with those of us who also possess limited versions of the skill, and we can attempt to influence the Princess' mind. It won't be easy, and it could possibly cause her pain."

"It's going to hurt Isabel?" Max demanded.

"We will need a lot of strength to fight against Khivar," another Royalist answered, "and I've never tried to mind-warp someone from within their dreams. The Princess' brain is delicate…"

"Will it cause brain damage? Could it kill her?" Michael asked, interrupting the explanation. He didn't care about the details of the plan, only the larger picture. If any of the damage to Isabel was permanent, it was entirely unacceptable. But if it was only momentary pain…

He didn't like thinking this way, didn't like so coldly assessing Isabel's chances of survival. But he couldn't help it. Perhaps it was something leftover from Rath, perhaps it was simply the harsh reality of the situation, but he slipped into General mode without much thought. They didn't know what would happen to Isabel if they tried this plan, but they knew _exactly_ what would happen to her if she stayed with Khivar.

He couldn't let that happen.

"Does it matter?" Tess asked, giving Michael an incredulous look. "If it hurts her at all, who cares about brain damage? We can't do it."

"We might not have a choice," Michael pointed out gently.

Tess just shook her head in disbelief and looked away. He heard her mutter, "Easy for you to say," and knew that part of what bothered her so much was that she would be the one inflicting the pain. After Kyle, after Alex… She was clearly not willing to use her gifts if she knew they would cause harm to a member of her family.

"Maybe she'll be able to fight him off on her own," Max said hopefully, but even as the words left his lips, his expression seemed to fall, to grow somber and worried. He did not believe what he was saying, and Michael didn't either.

"We're in her dream, right?" Tess asked finally. "Even though she's not here?" Ahab nodded, and she looked around, frowning, then pressed, "But how is that possible? She's not dreaming about this right now. She's not dreaming about us, so how are we…"

"It's complicated," another Royalist – the first who had explained about Isabel and Khivar's unique dream-walking gifts – answered grimly. "It has to do with the nature of subconscious and…"

"We don't need to know," Max interrupted. "Really. We can save all the details for after we find Isabel."

"Can we just go looking for her?" Michael asked. "Wander around the dream until we find her?"

"The mind isn't a map, Michael, and it isn't a book," Tess answered, shaking her head. "It's endless and infinite and very complicated. We can't just… explore."

"Spare us the lecture of philosophy of the mind," Max said tiredly, "I doubt I'd understand any of it anyway."

Tess responded with a thin smile that did not reach her eyes.

"So… what do we do?" Michael asked after a tense silence.

* * *

Isabel backed away from Khivar, still scanning the desert as though hoping her family would show up at any moment. This was her dream, she knew, and she was supposed to be in control of it. But she wasn't in control now, just as she had never been all the other times Khivar invaded her mind, and she didn't know how to change that.

It was hot. The sun was beating down on her, a fiery golden ball of heat and light that caused sweat to form along her brow. Her hair would soon be clinging to her face and neck.

She was holding Khivar here. It was her powers that were doing that. He was standing in front of her, unable to leave, and that meant that she was doing something right. She was beating him somehow, overpowering him. But she didn't know exactly what it was she was doing, so how could she replicate it? How could she find that strength again?

"This is pointless, Vilandra," Khivar said, approaching her slowly, holding his hands in the air in a sign of surrender. "You'll give in to me in time, and this constant fighting is wearing on both of us. Let's end the charade now."

"It isn't a charade," Isabel said firmly. "And I won't give into you ever."

"But you love me," Khivar said. Isabel opened her mouth to protest, but he pressed on without hesitation, "You love me, Lonnie. I can feel it, and I know you can, too. You might pretend you don't, but that will fall away in time. We both know you can't keep this up forever. All this false hatred… it's just a mask. You're afraid, I see that. But there is nothing to be afraid of, my love. Nothing at all."

His words were warm and comforting and she wanted to believe him. She felt herself moving towards him, her feet shuffling across the rocky ground. One hand reached forward, her fingers almost touching his.

"Come, my love," he said again.

But no, this wasn't right. She didn't love him. She loved…

Alex.

She froze, eyes narrowing at him. She tried to stay focused on Alex, tried to remember his blue eyes and his smile and his strange penchant for math and computers and technology. She had played on that love once, had used his own skills to solve her fears. And now those very fears were coming true before her eyes, but…

She couldn't let it happen. Alex had forgiven her for nearly getting him killed. Max had rushed off to face a less-than-trustworthy alien to figure out a way to save her. Michael had reached out to her, tried to remind her that they were still family, despite everything. And Tess had promised that they would always come for her.

She wasn't going to give into Khivar.

She _wasn't_.

Her fingers flashed blue and Khivar was suddenly thrown backwards. He slammed into the ground with enough force to knock the air out of him. He gasped, winded, and stared up at her with shock in his eyes.

The shock quickly turned to fury.

He rose gracefully to his feet in one fluid movement and held out both hands. Something struck her in the chest, and something else seemed to press down on her shoulders at the same time, and she fell to her knees. Her vision grew black along the edges from lack of oxygen, and she was nearly overcome by panic.

And then, quite suddenly, it was gone, replaced instead by a feeling of warmth and compassion. Khivar was crouching in front of her, his hands on her arm, his eyes soft and pleading. His touch was gentle, and she leaned in towards him automatically.

"I don't want to hurt you," he murmured, wrapping one arm around her shaking shoulders. "Please, love, lets not fight."  
"No," she agreed, "I don't want to fight, either."

Something in the back of her mind told her that this wasn't right. But she ignored it, staring instead at Khivar. He was pulling her to her feet, and she couldn't even remember how she ended up on the ground. Had it been a fight? But what could they possibly be fighting about when she loved him so much?

She was standing at his side, his arms wrapped around her, and the desert sun still was still hot and bright, and the air was still stifling. But as she followed him along the desert floor, something didn't quite seem to fit. What was it?

"Where are we?" Isabel asked suddenly, looking around. Her thoughts were confused, hazy, as though she couldn't think straight. How had they gotten here?

"We're in your dreams, Vilandra," Khivar said. "We meet here, remember? Because it's safe."

Isabel nodded. They had met in her dreams, several times. But never here, never in the desert. They usually met in that corridor…

She stopped abruptly, unintentionally pulling her arm from Khivar's grip. The moment his fingers were no longer touching her skin, Alex's face burst into her mind. She looked down at her arm, and then lifted wide eyes to Khivar as the fog cleared from her mind. Khivar froze, then reached out towards her again, but she pushed him away and scrambled backwards.

"Your touch," she said, horrified. "It… it amplifies your powers."

"Vilandra," he said, his voice gentle and chiding, "let's not argue." And it was soothing and sweet and she wanted to believe him, but her mind was still clear and she _remembered_.

"Where are they?" she demanded furiously. "Where is Max? Michael? Tess? What did you do to them?"

"Nothing," Khivar said. "Nothing at all."

She stared at him for a long moment, then said, "Take us back. Back to the corridor. Back to my family. Take us back!"

"_I_ am your family," Khivar protested, moving quickly towards her, both arms stretched outwards.

She jumped away and flung out her hand. Again, she acted without thinking, and Khivar was struck in the chest by something powerful. He sunk to the ground, his legs giving out beneath him.

"This is my dream," Isabel declared, "and you don't get to control everything." Following an instinct she couldn't explain or even really understand, she extended both hands, fingers splayed in front of her. "We're going _back_," she said fiercely, and then the desert was gone and they were standing in the hallway again.

The corridor was tense and silent, and just as they arrived, Isabel heard Michael asked with an unidentifiable emotion in his voice, "So… what do we do?"

Then Max cried out in obvious relief, "Isabel!" and was at her side in a moment, pulling her away from Khivar. He stood protectively in front of her, and she had never felt such incredible relief to see all of them alive and unharmed and at her side again.

Michael gave her a stunned look, and she met his gaze for a moment, wondering what he was thinking. But then the moment passed and she turned to Khivar. He stared at her, and she stared back for only the briefest second, before raising her hand and throwing him into the wall.

"Don't let him touch you," she warned.

Khivar looked up at all of them, his handsome features twisted into an expression of disgust. Curling his lip, he waved his hand and the air condensed into a long ripple crackling with electricity. She barely had time to register Max's force-field appearing, wrapping around all of them, and the two energies collided. The air hummed and the hallway shook and Max cried out and fell to his knees, his shield disintegrating.

And then came the fire.

It appeared instantly, reminding Isabel of Tess' battle against the skins after returning from the pocket realm. But Tess was not the one who had conjured this, and the flames were obeying Khivar's command.

They gave off copious amounts of smoke, and it was soon nearly impossible to see. The smoke made Isabel cough and choke, and it stung her eyes. The acrid smell was everywhere, and every breath she took made her lungs ache.

She could barely see, but the flashes of light that filled the crowded hallway indicated that the battle was still raging. Blood pounded in her ears as two of the Royalists fell beside her, knocked unconscious by some attack she could barely see. She could smell blood, and the fire jumped towards her, sparks landing on her clothing, flames burning her skin. She stumbled back, trying to slap out the flames. The bare skin on her arms was red and raw and _hurt_.

It appeared as though Khivar no longer wanted her. Or perhaps he had simply decided she would be impossible to capture. He was content to kill her with the others, to make them burn alive inside this hallway.

Something exploded near her, and she blinked and turned. Michael was standing a few feet away, and he was focusing on the walls and ceiling around Khivar, and the ground under his feet. He seemed to be making continual small explosions, causing something like an earthquake. It broke Khivar's concentration, and the fire began to dissipate.

There was a sudden cry of pain and shock and Tess fell to the ground, struck in the chest by what appeared to be a sphere of energy. She sprawled on the floor, unmoving, and Isabel felt unadulterated panic.

"Tess!" Max and Michael both shouted at the same time.

Before either could do anything more, Khivar had thrown them into opposite walls. They seemed stuck, unable to move, unable to do anything but stare at Khivar in helpless horror. His powers here were unlimited, and they didn't have a chance.

Ahab was kneeling beside Tess protectively, glaring at Khivar. The skin king was laughing triumphantly, advancing on Ahab and Tess with a look of pleasure. Then his eyes flicked to Max and he said with a snarl, "Say goodbye to your Queen, Zan."

"Stay away from her," Max spat, struggling wildly against whatever invisible bonds held him in place.

Isabel rushed to Tess' side, and was relieved to see the slow rise and fall of the petite blonde's chest. She was alive and breathing, but her breaths were shallow, and there was blood staining the front of her shirt.

"She doesn't have much time," Ahab whispered.

As if on cue, the Royalists left standing launched themselves at Khivar, all attacking at once. But he was able to conjure a shield that deflected their attacks with ease, and then launched several of his own, throwing more spheres of energy at his attackers.

Two of the Royalists fell to the ground just Tess had, injured, perhaps dying.

"This is your dream, Princess!" one of the Royalists shouted. "Do something! _Fight_ him."

This was her dream, she thought with firm resolve, and she could fight him. She had to fight him, had to free Max, or else Tess…

But no, she couldn't think about that. They would save Tess and the injured Royalists… and themselves. She just had to focus on Khivar. She just had to stop him.

This was her dream. She was the one in control.

Khivar smiled at her. She was dimly aware of her own burnt clothing and the blisters on her skin. There was blood on one hand and she didn't know where it came from – was it hers? – and blood in her blonde hair. But Khivar looked bruised as well, and if he wasn't as badly injured as she was…

Well, she could change that.

Khivar held out his hand, curling his fingers into a fist, and suddenly Isabel couldn't breathe. It was as though he had somehow managed to cut off her oxygen supply, and she sank slowly to her knees, gasping and panting. Her strength seemed to be dwindling, but she couldn't give up.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Tess once again, and her resolve strengthened. With her palms still pressed firmly to the ground, she released and explosion of energy. It raced across the floor like a flood of water, surging into Khivar. He cried out in pain and surprise, but was able to keep his footing.

Still, Isabel found herself able to breathe again.

"It's your dream, Isabel," she heard Kristalia say. "You can do anything you want. Just keep fighting."

"You can't fight me," Khivar snarled. "You can't win. You just _can't_, Lonnie, and you know that."

"Remembered what happened to Alex? To Jim Valenti?" Kristalia said. She was now standing directly behind Isabel, and she placed a hand on Isabel's shoulder, sending her strength and power flowing into the hybrid Princess' body. Ahab reached over and did the same, and Isabel felt a sudden rush of giddy lightheadedness.

She had _never_ felt this kind of control before. It was beyond comprehension. The things she could do…

"Remember Alex?" Kristalia said again.

Isabel nodded, rage bubbling in her stomach. It was Courtney, of course, and not Khivar who was truly to blame for that. But it didn't matter, she was still furious. Still betrayed.

"Remember what his brain seemed like when you four had to heal him? Remember how it was in complete disarray? Remember the confusion, the fear, the hopelessness he felt?"

"Stop it!" Isabel cried out. "Stop… I don't want to think about…" About Alex, about how much pain he had been in, how close he had come to dying.

But Kristalia was relentless. "Remember, Isabel? Remember what Courtney did to his brain? Think about it. Think about what happened."

And before Isabel knew what was happening, all the power inside of her burst through her control and everything seemed to shimmer red before her eyes. It was fury and rage and pain all combined, and the memory of what Courtney had done…

"Focus on Khivar!" she heard Kristalia shout.

And as the power and emotion flooded out of her, Khivar fell to his knees, clutching his head and crying out in pain. His voice was a shriek, and it sounded almost animalistic, while his features were filled with anguish. His fingers twisted around strands of his own hair, his nails biting into the skin of his scalp.

And then, quite suddenly, Isabel was awake.

* * *

"What's happening? Oh, God… how do we stop this?"

It was not the first time that Diane Evans had uttered those words since the four hybrids invaded Isabel's dreams, and Alex had a feeling it wouldn't be the last. And he was thinking the same thing, filled with the same kind of panic, but he was doing his best to stay calm, to keep his expression neutral. He had to be the voice of reason here, because he was the only one who had any experience with this sort of thing.

But burns had covered Isabel's skin and their was blood in her hair. Bruises had appeared on Max and Michael, and several of the Royalists. How was he supposed to stay calm when people he cared about were getting injured right in front of him, and he had no idea how to stop it?

Isabel tossed and turned on the bed, moaning. He knelt at her side, reaching over the still bodies of the others to take her hand. "I'm here," he whispered, though he doubted she could hear him. "I'm right here."

"Oh! God… what's happening? Tess!"

Alex turned at Mrs. Evans cry, his eyes automatically searching out the petite blonde. For a moment, he allowed the horror he was feeling to play across his features as he watched blood seep onto Tess' shirt. Her breaths were shallow, her lips parted as she rasped painfully…

This couldn't be happening.

The door suddenly flew open and Alex whirled around. Maria was standing there, looking fearful and upset. Alex gaped at her, then dropped Isabel's hand and took a few quick steps to his best friend. He was almost expecting an army of skins to charge in behind her, but she was alone.

"Maria?" Mr. Evans asked.

"Nobody answered the door," Maria said slowly, her voice unnaturally quiet. She was looking past Alex to where Mrs. Evans was now kneeling by Tess. "I thought… oh, God… she was right."

"Who was right?" Alex demanded, pulling Maria away from the door. "What's going on?" He glanced around her, giving the hallway one last, searching look, before asking, "What's wrong?"

"Liz called," Maria said numbly. "She… she said she had a dream… a premonition… something bad was happening…"

"What? What are you talking about?" Alex asked. He wasn't sure what part of that statement worried him more – that Liz was apparently having prophetic dreams, or that something bad was going to happen. He twisted and looked over at Isabel again. Was she going to be alright?

"Liz called," Maria said, pushing past Alex and hurrying over to the bed where the hybrids lay. She barely even paused to glance at the Royalists asleep on the floor, her attention fully on their four friends.

"Yes, okay," Alex prompted. "But what did she say?"

"She had a dream," Maria murmured. She was reaching her hand out for Michael's arm, but she never connected. Her fingers froze in midair, and her eyes fixed on Tess instead. "Is she…?"

"She's still breathing," Mrs. Evans said bravely, and with a lot more courage than Alex would have expected from a mother being forced to stand helplessly by while her children battled an inhuman enemy.

Maria nodded once. "Liz said someone dies," she whispered, eyes wide, voice filled with horror. "In her dream. She saw Max… he was upset… hurting. He felt responsible, felt like he should have been able to stop everything… to save everyone…"

And then, quite suddenly, Isabel lurched upwards in bed, eyes flying open. She started gasping for breath, and her eyes filled with tears. For a moment, the room was deathly silent, and then Isabel stumbled forward, haphazardly throwing herself from the bed and snatching frantically at Alex.

"Izzy!"

Alex wrapped his arms around Isabel as Mr. and Mrs. Evans came to her side. She was sobbing into his shirt, and he couldn't tell exactly what she was saying, but he heard the name Courtney repeated a few times. He wondered about it, almost pulled back to ask, but then thought better of it.

Instead, he tightened his hold on his girlfriend and whispered, "It's okay. You're awake now."

"Where's… Tess?" Alex heard Max asked, his voice strained. Isabel pulled away from Alex, and both of them turned to watch Michael and Max open their eyes and look around the room in confusion. The Royalists were stirring as well, slowly waking up.

Tess was still unconscious. Still pale and barely breathing.

Max reached out towards her, grabbing her arm. "Open your eyes," he instructed hoarsely. "Come on, Tess… open your eyes."

Alex watched with abated breath as Tess' eyelids fluttered, and blue orbs wearily sought out Max's face. Isabel sagged in Alex's arms, the relief obvious in her expression as Max conjured up his strength and forced the healing power into his hands.

A moment later, Tess coughed and pushed Max's hands away. "Mm… I'm okay," she muttered, sitting up. Lifting one hand to rub the newly healed skin at her throat, she gave Max a grateful look. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Max said. He crawled from the bed and stumbled towards the few Royalists who still had not woken up. On closer expectation, Alex noted they seemed to have the same wounds Tess had, and wondered if they'd been attacked in the same way. But it didn't really matter, because Max was slowly healing all of them.

"What happened?" Tess questioned finally. "Khivar…"

"He's gone," Ahab said. "At least for now. I believe that the Princess managed to wound him rather significantly. It will be a little while before he can launch any kind of attack. He must regroup and heal."

Alex grinned and hugged Isabel again. "I knew you could do it," he said proudly.

"But… but I don't even know what I did," Isabel protested. She gave Kristalia an accusing glare. "What did _you_ do?"

Kristalia sat down on the edge of the bed and said, "You appeared to only be able to tap into your full strength when you were acting on instinct and with high emotion. I merely played on your emotions to bring out the power I knew you had." She did not sound at all apologetic for it, and, in fact, there was a bit of a challenge in her tone. As though she was daring the others to tell her what she had done was wrong.

Alex blinked. "I don't understand," he said.

"Isabel was the only one with the power necessary to stop Khivar," Kristalia explained, "because his own power is almost unlimited in a dream world. She was having trouble coming up with any form of coherent attack on him, so I made her think about what Courtney had done to you. That made her understandably upset, and she focused on all the rage and all the fury… and on what it felt like to be inside your brain after Courtney had nearly killed you… and then she turned her attention to Khivar."

Alex considered this for a long moment, trying to figure out what exactly had happened. At last, he asked tentatively, "So she did the same thing to Khivar that Courtney did to me?"

Ahab nodded. "Yes. Not intentionally, of course. But that was what _Kristi_ had intended," he gave the redhead a quick look, "was it not?"

Kristalia nodded. "It worked, didn't it? She injured Khivar enough to get him out of her head, probably permanently. And she bought all of us some more time to make our plans."

"So… this is good, right?" Mrs. Evans asked cautiously. "I mean… you all won."

Isabel let out a dark chuckle that turned abruptly into full laughter. She nearly doubled-over, clutching her side. Alex gave her a worried look – wasn't she sobbing just seconds ago – but she didn't seem to notice. She leaned against the wall and continued laughing, shaking her head, eyes sparkling with bitter mirth.

"Oh… God…"

"Isabel?" Mrs. Evans asked worriedly.

"She's finally gone crazy," Tess said dryly. "Well, we all knew it would happen eventually."

"Look at us!" Isabel said, holding her arms out wide. "We're _covered_ in burns and bruises and blood. Tess almost _died_, and she's not the only one." She paused, looking at the few Royalists who Max had just healed. "And I just screwed up someone's mind, but it's all okay because we _won_."

"Khivar will find someone to fix his mind, trust me," Ahab muttered under his breath.

"I think the important thing is that no one died," Michael said, giving Isabel an odd look.

And that was all it took for Alex to remember Maria. The pixie blonde was standing in the corner of the room now, having scrambled out of the way as soon as everyone started waking up. She was still pale and looked upset, but she was obviously relieved as well, happy to see that no one here had died.

And yet…

Michael, having caught sight of Maria, too, demanded, "What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

Maria bristled at the hardness of his tone, but then deflated completely. "Liz called," she said, and Alex noted in interest how Max stiffened and then turned all of his attention to Maria with a hopeful look in his eyes, desperate for news of his ex-girlfriend.

But then Max's expression turned to one of horror, and he asked sharply, "Is she alright? The skins, did they… I thought there were Royalists watching her." He turned to look at Ahab. "I thought they were going to keep her safe."

"She's fine," Maria said, and if she was at all surprised or intrigued by Max's obvious feelings, she did not comment on it. Alex didn't either, but he noted with some interest that whatever Mad had done to convince himself that he could get over Liz… well, it wasn't working.

"Why did she call?" Michael asked. His voice sounded off, but Alex couldn't figure out what was wrong with it. There was some underlying emotion… was it disgust? Anger? Fear?

"She had a dream," Maria said numbly. "She thought it was… she said it seemed like a premonition. That someone was going to die. Soon."

"She's not an alien," Max protested. "How could she have premonitions?"

"I don't know," Maria murmured, "but she was very sure of it. Of what she dreamt. Someone died…" She gave Max a long look, then added, "Someone you thought you should have been able to save. She said you were hurting, that you were angry and scared and grieving…"

There was a momentary silence, then Mrs. Evans, acting on maternal instinct, hurried over to Maria and pulled her into a hug. "Nobody died, Maria. Not here, not now."

* * *

The hospital room was quiet, save for the steady beat of the heart monitor and the shallow breaths of the patient occupying the bed. The air was still, undisturbed by the wind that rushed past on the other side of the wall. It was almost peaceful, in a too-white, too-sterilized kind of way.

When the heartbeat first faltered, the machine registered the change with mechanical precision. A line jumped on the screen, a break in the pattern. A nurse passing by the open door paused as she caught sight of it, but when the machine showed nothing else, she continued on her rounds.

When the heartbeat faltered again, the line did more than just jump. It hovered for a moment, and then flattened into a smooth horizontal line running across the screen. The machine registered this with its customary bells and whistles, and as a Code Blue was called, the peace of the room was broken by the sudden appearance of doctors and nurses.

They tried to resuscitate the patient. Her small, frail frame arched on the bed as paddles were pressed against her chest. The call of "Clear!" was issued several times, and the defibrillator hummed as energy poured through the wires. An oxygen mask with a manual pump was fitted over the pale face as breath was forced back into the body.

And yet, despite all of the chaos and the panic, the child lay there, her body resisting all of the medical personnel's' attempts to revive her. She wore a peaceful expression on her features, and when the doctors finally gave up and stepped away from the bed, one of them commented in a whisper, "She looks like a sleeping angel."

And at approximately 5:17am, Sydney Davis died.

* * *

Next Chapter: Fault Lines

Due: Sun 1/23


	23. Fault Lines

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: Okay, so I had a couple of questions about Sydney that I wanted to address. No, Khivar did not do anything to her. She just died (because she had cancer and it killed her).

As for why Max couldn't heal her, this was referred to when Future Michael visited Liz in _Time After Time_. Future Michael convinces Liz to prevent Max from healing Sydney by telling her that Max just isn't able to heal her, and if he tries and fails then he will feel guilty. In reality, though Future Michael knew that Max could heal Sydney (because he did in the alternate future), but that doing so creates a bond between Max and Sydney (like a platonic version of the bond between Max and Liz) that Khivar exploits to hurt them. Essentially, Khivar possesses Sydney and then forces Max to kill Sydney in order to save his family, which results in him falling apart because he had to kill someone that he is so connected with... anyway, Future Michael was trying to prevent this from happening. And he hoped that there would be a human way to save Sydney using medicine and that sort of thing... but there wasn't.

If this isn't clear or you want to read it again, this is all explained in _Chapter Thirty-Three: All the Broken Pieces_ in _Time After Time_.

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three: Fault Lines

"So… you're sure that nobody died?" Liz asked, for what felt like the millionth time. She could practically see Maria rolling her eyes at the other end of the phone line, and she knew she was being a bit annoying, but she couldn't help it. She was so sure that something was going to happen, and while she was relieved that it didn't happen – at least not _yet_ – she still could not ignore the unease that had settled in her stomach.

"I was right there, Lizzie," Maria said. "They were bruised and battered, but… nobody died. Trust me. We're all okay."

Liz nodded wearily and looked around her room. Eileen was off somewhere else at the moment, which gave her some privacy. She had only a few more minutes until her next class started, but she wasn't ready to hang up on Maria yet.

She still wasn't sure she believed that everything had really worked out alright.

"And Khivar is out of Isabel's head?" Liz asked. She'd asked that question before, too, but Maria seemed to have a lot more patience now than was normal, and had not yet gotten irritated at all the repetition.

"Yes. They think permanently. She injured him pretty badly apparently," Maria answered.

Liz closed her eyes. "Okay. Okay," she murmured, as though saying the word aloud would ease her fears. She and Maria were both quiet for a while, Liz lost in her own thoughts and Maria probably just waiting to see which question she would have to answer next.

Liz sighed. Some traitorous part of her was bothered by all of this. She was happy that the problem had been fixed, that Isabel would be alright and that they had managed to win a battle against Khivar, even if it was while he was alone and without his allies for backup. But some tiny part of her was hurt that they had managed to do all of it without her.

It didn't even make sense. She had left Roswell in part because she was convinced that they _didn't_ need her. If she had thought that her presence might have helped them, she would have stayed. So it shouldn't have come as a surprise to her that she wasn't needed, that they had fought a battle by themselves.

But it didn't make it hurt any less.

And yet, wasn't this what she had wanted? A chance to get away from the alien mess while still knowing that they were doing alright without her? That her absence _wasn't_ hurting them?

"Liz? You still there?"

Maria's voice interrupted her thoughts, and Liz said quietly, "Yeah, I'm still here."

There was a momentary silence from the other end, then Maria said, "Max was really worried when I said I'd talked to you. He thought you might have been hurt… you know, by enemy Czechoslovakians."

Liz shook her head. "It doesn't matter, Maria."

"Doesn't it?" Maria countered. "Come on, chica. You got really worked up about Max being upset."

"Yes, well… I thought someone was _dying_," Liz pointed out dryly. Of course she would have gotten worked up about that. She still cared about these people, whether she wanted to or not, and the idea of any of them being killed in this war…

"Yeah, but… when you first woke up from the dream, what were you more distraught about: that someone had died, or that Max was upset?" Maria asked shrewdly.

"Okay, now you're making me sound like a horrible person," Liz shot back, and Maria laughed quietly.

Liz didn't want to admit it, but Maria had a point. Just like Eileen and Maggie had both had their points. She wasn't over Max, and now she wasn't sure if she wanted to be.

But it was more than that. Maybe she wasn't any help to the group, maybe she couldn't protect any of them at all. But now that the reality of the war had manifested itself in Isabel nearly going insane and Tess almost dying, she was starting to think it wasn't really about them.

She could live with not being important.

If Tess had died, or if they hadn't been able to save Isabel… It was clear that she would have had no aid to offer in that particular battle, but it didn't matter. She still wanted to be there for them, even if only as moral support. Because if someone had died and she hadn't been there, doing everything possible – no matter how small and insignificant – to help…

She wasn't so sure she could live with that.

"I think… I think I want to come home," she said. Saying the words out loud made everything seem more real, more serious, and she couldn't believe she was doing it. Only a few months into school, and she was already prepared to quit, to leave behind normality for the group.

For the people she had come to think of as her family.

"I want you to come home, too," Maria answered. "But I've been saying that since the moment you left."

* * *

It seemed strange to be at school again. They had fought a battle against an enemy alien, they had saved Isabel's sanity and Tess' life, they had severely injured their opponent, bought themselves a bit more time to prepare for the coming war… and now here he was, crowded into a classroom, sitting at too-small desks, and listening to a boring teacher drone on about something that didn't matter.

It might have been math. Honestly, Michael wasn't even sure which class this was or what period of the day. He just couldn't focus.

The minute the bell rang, signaling the end of an excruciatingly tedious hour, he bolted from his seat, barely pausing to grab his backpack. He was exhausted, both from the lack of sleep and the fact that he had spent so much energy fighting Khivar. He wondered with some concern how long it would take to get that strength back.

Glancing around the hallway, he noted several of the other students making their way towards the quad and felt instant relief to realize it was lunch. He would be spared that torture of another class, at least for a little while.

It was sunny, although a bit cold. He could feel the winter chill in the air. Roswell didn't have much of a winter, but there was a distinct difference between the temperature now and the temperature they had had back in July.

Scanning the quad, he quickly found Max, Isabel, and Alex all sitting at the same table. Another quick look located Tess, sitting with her other friends and laughing at something Chris had said. But Maria was nowhere to be seen.

He frowned and looked around again. He knew she was at school today, he'd seen her earlier. And it wasn't like her to skip lunch, although it was true that she had occasionally done it in the past. Usually when she was avoiding him. So was she avoiding him now? It seemed like all they had done lately was argue, but that wasn't really unusual. They argued all the time.

He turned and looked back towards the double doors leading into the school. Maria was slowly exiting them, and her expression was unfocused. It was clear she was lost in her own thoughts, and she didn't notice him until she had nearly walked directly into his stationary form.

"Oh. Space Boy," Maria said, smiling slightly. But the smile seemed forced, even to Michael's not-always-perceptive gaze. "I was just… I didn't see you."

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded and ran a hand through her hair. "You… you didn't stick around after the thing," Maria said, lowering her voice somewhat. They were surrounded by students and it wasn't the right time to discuss their fight with Khivar, but Maria was gazing at him earnestly, waiting for an answer.

"Yeah. I had other… stuff," he answered, and it sounded pathetic even to his own ears. He hadn't stayed around afterwards, leaving almost as soon as possible. The fact that they had won was a relief, but it did not fully ease the tension that he still felt.

It had been so easy to become Rath. To slip into military thinking, to assess a situation analytically and without much in the way of emotion. He had hardly even hesitated before supporting a plan that would have caused Isabel an unknown amount of pain, and did it really matter if the harm wasn't permanent? Why hadn't he argued with the Royalists? Why had he just accepted the idea?

Not, of course, that they had been forced to go through it. Which was good, not only because he didn't want to hurt Isabel, but because he had no idea if they would have been able to convince Tess to do it. After Alex and Kyle… well, she still didn't seem to want to use her mind-warp on people, and she certainly had not wanted to use it when they had known it would cause pain to someone she cared about.

"Stuff?" Maria repeated, interrupting his thoughts.

He stared blankly at her.

"You had stuff to do?" she questioned disbelievingly.

"Um… yeah. Like… sleep."

He sighed. He was usually better at coming up with answers in these conversations. But he didn't want to tell her what the problem was, didn't want to confide in her. It was too hard to admit that he didn't like Rath much, too hard to tell her that the alien half of him was so willing to hurt others to win this war.

What if the New York version of himself was the right one? What if the person he had been in a past life was closer to the dupe Rath than to himself?

"Liz is coming home," Maria said.

Michael stared at her, all worries about his ideas of moral and ethics momentarily pushed aside. "What? You mean… like to visit?"

"No. Permanently," Maria answered, smiling. "She's going to call her parents today, actually, she's probably already called them. It will take a few days to arrange things, but then she'll be home."

"Why?" he asked bluntly.

Maria's expression changed into a glower. "Don't you want her to come back?" she demanded. "Or have you decided she's no longer part of the group?"

Michael folded his arms over his chest. "_She_ decided she was no longer part of the group," he said defensively, "and whether or not I want her to come back is irrelevant. She made it pretty clear she didn't want to be around us anymore. It was her decision to leave, so why did she suddenly change her mind?"

Maria placed her hands on her hips. "Maybe she was worried about us, about Isabel. Maybe she _cares_. Maybe she _never_ would have left in the first place if _everyone else_ had shown that they cared about _her_."

Michael shook his head. "It's not that simple, Maria, and you know it," he said firmly. "Look, if she wants to come back, that's great. But the fact that she's coming back now doesn't really change anything. All the old issues are still there."

"What issues? You mean Max being a jerk?"

"I mean Liz blaming all of us for what happened to Alex and the Sheriff so soon after Valenti's funeral," Michael snapped. "I mean risking exposing all of us and getting the two of you killed when you ran off to Las Cruces."

He'd had time to think about it. Unlike Max, he wasn't in love with Liz, so he had been able to view the entire situation with less confusing emotions. And unlike Tess, while he had mourned Valenti's death, he had not grieved the way he would have had it been a family member who died, so he was able to think about it all rationally. And yet, as time passed, he found himself getting more annoyed with Liz's actions, and not less.

"We were right," Maria hissed. "Liz was _right_."

Michael felt as though he had been slapped, and he knew his face must have shown his feelings of betrayal, because Maria's expression went from angry to apologetic almost immediately.

"I didn't meant… I didn't mean that she was right that it was your fault the Sheriff died," Maria said quickly. "Or that... or that you guys ending up in the white room would have been an acceptable trade for saving Alex and catching Courtney…"

"Don't worry about it," Michael said, waving away her apology. "It's fine, it doesn't matter."

It _did_ matter, but he didn't want to dwell on it. He knew that Maria had not meant what she said, that she honestly did not blame them for what Courtney had done and she would never want them to end up in the white room. But her inability to see the other side of the argument, to see that maybe Liz had done something wrong, too, was bothering him.

Of course, he was also still annoyed that Liz had left when she apparently knew that her leaving had caused the end of the world in one version of the future.

Still, he didn't want to fight. They were, after all, standing in the quad, still surrounded by the rest of the high school students. And even if no one was paying attention to them now… well, they _would_ be paying attention if this turned into a shouting match.

"Michael…"

"Come on, let's sit down," Michael said, turning and gesturing to the table that currently seated Max, Isabel, and Alex. Maria nodded and gave him an unreadable look, and he felt a little bit of guilt. But he ignored it, and the two of them walked towards the table in silence.

* * *

It had been three days since they fought Khivar. Three days of not having Isabel waking up in the middle of the night, screaming, three days of not worrying about losing his sister, three days of no longer feeling helpless, three days of believing that maybe – _just maybe_ – they could win this fight.

And Liz was coming home. Today. In fact, her plane had probably already landed. She was most likely back at her house, settling into her room, preparing herself for a return to Roswell High School.

Max still wasn't entirely sure what to make of all of this. Maria had informed him with an air of superiority that Liz had decided to do the right thing and come home, no thanks to him, and was willing to put aside their differences to help the group with the upcoming war. Even though he had done nothing to encourage it or to make her feel welcome.

For the most part, Max had ignored everything Maria had said. He honestly hadn't cared about her opinion on this subject, having long since resigned himself to the fact that she would always side with Liz, no matter what. Besides, the details didn't matter that much, not when he had the bigger picture to think about.

Liz was back.

He was excited and anxious. That had not parted on good terms, but there was no denying that he missed her. A lot. And yet… could they really go back to the way things were before? And even if they could… did she want to?

Did he want to?

Max shook his head slowly as he thought about all of this. He would see Liz tomorrow at school, but did he want to see her before then? It was already getting dark, and he had a few hours to work at the UFO Center, so it would be close to ten o'clock by the time he got over to the diner… would Liz be there?

He parked the car next to the UFO Center and climbed out, stretching slightly. His muscles were still stiff and sore from the injuries he had sustained during the fight, and even though they were all healed and he had managed to sleep quite well the past few nights, he was still tired. Between the war, homework, and the college applications that his mother insisted he finish, he'd barely had time think about much else. He hadn't been able to come into work for the past couple weeks, but Brody hadn't seemed to mind.

Brody didn't really seem to mind much, though. Max often skipped working for a few weeks at a time, and then would suddenly work twenty hours in one week, and Brody barely even noticed. It made it the ideal job for a hybrid king fighting a war, and Max knew he had gotten lucky.

Besides, he rather liked his eccentric boss.

And so, as he pulled open the door to the UFO Center and thought over everything that had happened – Isabel was safe, they had won, he no longer felt helpless, Liz had come home, he had a job he liked – he couldn't help but feeling kind of… fortunate.

But really, he should have known better than to tempt fate.

The UFO Center was in disarray. Most of the exhibits had been pulled down in a haphazard manner, and newspaper clippings and print-outs of strange numbers and patterns littered the floor. There were several boxes lining one wall, all of them full and taped shut. It appeared as though Brody was packing up everything he owned, and doing it very messily.

Brody was odd and peculiar and unconventional and, at times, quite messy, but he had always treated the UFO Center as though it was some kind of shrine. Sometimes things would end up out of place, but never on the floor, never carelessly piled on tables, never jammed chaotically into boxes.

"Who are you?"

Max spun around at the sound of the accusing voice, and found himself staring at a stunning women with long jet-black hair and blue-gray eyes. She wore an expensive-looking dress suit that was badly wrinkled, and her mascara was smudged, creating dark circles around her bloodshot eyes.

She had clearly been crying.

She looked vaguely familiar, and Max was sure he had seen her before, but he couldn't quite figure out where. She was older than him, closer to Brody's age, and she was glaring at him with a mixture of anger and undeniable pain.

"I… Max. Max Evans. I… um… I work here," Max stammered, feeling thoroughly wrong-footed.

She stared at him for a long moment, then wiped her eyes with the back of one hand. "Oh. Well, you can go home. I don't think you're needed today."

Max hesitated on the stairs, eyes running over the place once more. "Is Brody leaving? It looks like he's packing."

"Yes," she said in a clipped tone.

Max glanced over at the door leading into the backroom. It was closed, but he could see light coming out from the small space between the bottom of the door and the floor. He took a few steps in that direction, intent on talking to Brody, but then stopped.

He remembered suddenly where he had seen the woman before.

Turning around, he asked, "You're Sydney's mother, aren't you? You came to visit once last year. I… you had talked about taking Sydney on a vacation, I remember that… I'm sorry, I don't remember your name."

She stared at him for a long moment, then said shakily, "Melissa."

He hadn't really liked her the first time they'd met. Well, it hadn't been an official meeting, she had simply swept into the UFO Center and started arguing with Brody. She had seemed like an elitist snob, insulting Brody's career, choice of city, and parenting skills. There had been something cold and icy about her, a frosty exterior that had only softened slightly when around her daughter.

But the ice seemed to have completely melted now.

"It's nice to meet you again," Max said warily. The fact that she was still standing there, still staring at him with watery eyes… "Is Sydney okay?"

And Melissa burst into sobs.

Before Max could think up anything else to say, the door to the backroom slammed open and Brody came storming out of it. He paused at the sight of Max, clearly stunned, then let out a dark chuckle.

"Brody?" Max asked, eyeing his boss worriedly. Brody's hair was sticking out at odd angles and his clothing, too, was rumpled and wrinkled. There were dark circles under his eyes, deep lines along his face, and his skin was nearly ashen. And his eyes were haunted and hurting.

"Sorry, Max," he said, sounding far more weary than Max had thought possible. "I should have called and told you not to come in." He looked past Max and said, "You should go back to your hotel room, Melissa. There's no point in sticking around here."

Melissa folded her arms over her chest and looked away. "No point in going back there, either."

"Brody, what's… what happened?" Max asked tentatively. "Are you… packing?"

"Sydney… the cancer…" Brody ran a hand through his hair, his words choked with emotion. He could barely force out the words, "It was too much for her. She didn't… she couldn't fight it. She… she lost the battle…"

* * *

She felt it slamming into her with an intensity that took her breath away. It was inexplicable, and it brought tears to her eyes. She stood there, still and silent, trying to understand the new emotion that had wrapped itself so tightly around her chest. She didn't know what it was, but she knew that it scared her.

And she knew that it hurt.

And really, she didn't need to know anything else.

Both Maria and Alex who had been there to welcome her home were now gone, off to their own houses for the evening. And her parents were busy with their own work, giving her the time she needed to adjust back to living here, in this house, in Roswell. So Liz didn't even hesitate, she just moved automatically towards the window, following the strange compulsion that forced her to leave her room.

And then she knew what it was. It was Max. It was her dream, her nightmare. She could feel his fury and his helplessness and his grief, and she didn't know what to make of it, because Isabel and Tess hadn't died, and even all the Royalists had come out of the battle more or less in once piece, so what could be causing him to grieve?

Still…

She climbed quickly into the alley and, pulling her sweater more tightly around herself to keep out the night chill, she hurried towards the Evans' home. She wondered how the rest of the town could be so quiet, so still, while something horrible had clearly happened. She knew, logically, that they could not feel what she could feel, but still…

She thought about calling the others. Michael, Isabel, Tess. What if something had happened? What if Max needed back up? She couldn't really help him if it was a skin attacking. She had managed in the past to fend off the enemy aliens, but she couldn't count on being so lucky again. And at least the others would have their gifts.

But then… could they feel it, too? She remembered vaguely when Michael had ended up in the hospital two years ago, courtesy of Hank, the other three hybrids had somehow sensed that something bad had happened. Was this a similar instance? Did the connection that existed between the four of them always alert them to each other's trauma?

She didn't end up making a decision, though, and all thoughts of the rest of the group were driven from her mind as she approached the Evans' home and found Max standing in the drive with a bag of trash in one hand and the top of the trashcan in the other. It was clear he was attempting to take out the garbage, but the trashcan was nearly overflowing, and the new bag would not fit in. She slowed to a walk as she watched him struggle with it for a moment, trying in vain to create more space for the new bag.

And then he seemed to give up.

He spun around furiously and hurled the bag as far as he could. It flew from his arms and landed in the middle of the lawn, coming open and spilling garbage onto the grass. Without even hesitating, he grabbed the lid of the trashcan with both hands and slammed it into the side of the bin, causing a sharp clanging noise to ring through the still air. He repeated the motion again and again, until finally the trashcan itself fell over and rolled further into the driveway.

He threw the lid onto the ground, and then, for good measure, gave it a vicious kick and sent it skidding over the cement.

"Max?"

He turned at the sound of his name, and took a few halting steps towards her. As he passed under the light of the streetlamp, she was able to see his face clearly. It was stained with tears.

"Liz," he said. His voice was flat. Numb.

"Are you…" She glanced at the overturned trashcan. It seemed ridiculous to ask if he was alright when it was so clear that he _wasn't_. She licked her lips, and asked instead, "What's wrong?"

He wrapped his arms over his chest and continued to stare at her as though he couldn't quite figure out what to say. Or perhaps as though he didn't actually believe that she was really there, standing in front of him. There was a look in his eyes that she didn't like, and his silence unnerved her as well.

"Maria said… she said that everyone was alright. Isabel… Tess…" Liz stopped abruptly, looked down. Something new had obviously happened, but what?

"They are. They're all fine," he said stiffly. Then his body seemed to cave in on himself and he slumped over. "I should have been able to save her."

"Save who?" Liz asked in trepidation. She reached out for Max, her hand hovering diffidently in the air. He stared at it blankly, uncomprehendingly, as though he had no idea what to do with it.

She let her arm drop back to her side.

"Max," she prompted, and he snapped his gaze to her face.

"We fought Khivar," he said, his words suddenly loud and furious, echoing in the empty street. "We fought Khivar and we won! He's stronger than us, Liz, and he knows more and he has a larger army and he'll kill _anyone_ who stands in his way. He's more powerful than we are, but we _won_! He's out of Isabel's dreams and Tess is alive and… and I _know_ we'll have to fight him again in the future, and we'll _have_ to stop him for good this time, but… but I started thinking we might actually have a chance. I started thinking that we could do this, that we _were_ strong enough. That maybe… maybe the world _wouldn't_ end."

Tears were gathering again in his eyes and spilling out onto his cheeks. His gaze was open and earnest and filled with raw pain, and he looked so lost and bewildered, and the compassionate part of Liz wanted to rush to his side and hug him and tell him it was all going to be alright.

But it wasn't going to be alright. She had no idea what was going on, but this was her nightmare, this was her vision, and she knew that it _didn't_ have a happy ending.

He laughed, a dark, bitter sound. "I thought we were strong enough," he repeated. The he paused for a moment, before correcting himself with a disgusted shake of his head, "I started to believe that _I_ was strong enough. But I'm not. How can I be? Sydney's _dead_."

And there it was, the possibility that Liz hadn't even considered. But hadn't Future Michael told her that Sydney was going to die? Hadn't she been warned about this? Hadn't she been told that it would destroy Max, that he would fall apart? So why hadn't she seen it coming?

"She was just a _kid_, Liz," Max said. He started pacing back and forth across the drive, and whenever his path took him by the lid of the trashcan he would kick it, accenting his words with the sharp clang of metal on concrete. "She was just a kid. I've healed you, Michael, Isabel, Tess, the Royalists, even Alex. What about _her_? _Why_ couldn't I save her?"

Liz's mouth was dry and she had no idea what to say to that. But he had stopped long enough to look at her, waiting for an answer, as though she might actually have one to give.

"Max… you can't save everyone," she replied, and it sounded trite and not at all comforting.

"Why not?" he demanded. Then he laughed again and looked away from her, back towards his house. "I don't want to save everyone. But she's not everyone, she's just one person, and…" He was silent for a moment, thinking, and then he reached down and picked up the lid of the trashcan. He stared at it for a moment, his expression filled with morbid fascination, before throwing it at the pole of the streetlamp. It hit the pole with enough force to cause sparks, and Liz flinched at the sound.

She saw the door of his house open, and Mrs. Evans appeared on the doorstep, her expression filled with concern. She looked as though she might come towards them, but then she saw Liz, and she hesitated. Her gaze moved between the two teens for a long moment before she withdrew into the house again, shutting the door behind her.

But she appeared seconds later behind the curtain in the window, still watching them. Still watching Max.

She wondered vaguely if Max even knew just how much his mother loved him, how much she was willing to put up with or to ignore for his sake.

Max was still staring at the street lamp.

"I couldn't stop Courtney," he said. "And I couldn't save Valenti. But this…"

"This wasn't alien, Max," Liz countered gently. "This was cancer. You don't… it isn't part of the war."

"That doesn't mean _anything_!" he shouted, whirling on her. There was a silence, and then he started pacing again. "I still should have been able to save her. You getting shot wasn't part of the war either, but I saved you. And now she's dead and it's my fault that I…"

"No," Liz said instantly, moving to his side and grabbing his arms, forcing him to stop, to look at her. "This was not your fault. You didn't kill Sydney. What happened to her… it isn't even _about_ you. You are not responsible for it. Max… Max, listen to me. I know it hurts and I know you're frustrated and I know you think you should have been able to save her, but it _isn't_ your fault. People die. And it's not… it's not always their time, and it's not fair and it's not right and it _hurts_. But people die. And I know you have superpowers and I know you can do amazing things, but that _still_ doesn't change any of this. That doesn't change the fact that people die and you _can't_ save everyone."

"But what's the point of any of this, then? If I can't save people, why do I have these gifts?" Max demanded.

"Because they are part of who you are," Liz answered. "You weren't given these gifts to save people, Max. You weren't given them with any greater purpose at all. You were given them because half of your DNA is alien and this is the way that half manifests itself. It's science, Max. It's biology. Nothing more, nothing less. And you're the one who decides what to do with them."

"But I don't decide," Max retorted. "I don't want to be fighting this war, and I wanted to be able to save Sydney. But Khivar won't stop and I couldn't save Sydney and…"

"What happened to Sydney is horrible," Liz interrupted, "but it doesn't say anything about who you are." She reached up and wiped away a stray tear from his cheek. "You didn't kill her, and we both know you tried to save her. You could do evil things with your gifts. You could kill people, like Courtney and Khivar. Like Rath and Lonnie. But you _don't_, you choose not to. Because you're better than they are."

"And yet Sydney's still dead."

"I know," Liz whispered, "I know. And maybe you're right, maybe you never really had a choice in any of this. Maybe you're fighting Khivar now because you've been forced into it. But you _are_ fighting him, you are taking a stand instead of running and letting him destroy everything in his search for you. You _are_ trying to protect everyone. Even all of us humans, even those of us who don't know who you are. You're still trying to stop that horrible future that Michael told me about."

He pulled away from her, the sank to the ground at the edge of the driveway. She knelt at his side, wrapping her arms around him, hugging him tightly. And he leaned into her chest.

And they still had so many problems to work through and she was still so angry at him for his actions back in May and she was still hurt by his disregard for her over the summer, but somehow it didn't matter. They would work it out later, or maybe they wouldn't work it out at all, maybe they wouldn't get past the pain and the anger and the hatred. Maybe they would never be friends again, maybe he would never look at her with the kind of love she had grown accustomed to seeing in his eyes during those first two years.

But right now, it didn't matter.

Because a child was dead, her life cut off before it really had a chance to even begin, and how could anything compare to that?

And neither of them noticed the FBI agent sitting in the car on the opposite side of the street, listening to every word they said.

* * *

Next Chapter: In My Mind

Due: Sun 1/30


	24. In My Mind

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four: In My Mind

Liz chewed her lip and looked almost defiantly at Maria and Alex. They were both staring at her with apprehensive expressions on their faces, and she knew they were thinking that she had gone crazy. After all, what she was saying didn't make any sense. Except…

"Liz, I know that you're upset by this, but I think… well…" Alex hesitated, looked at Maria for a moment, searching her eyes for a way to finish his sentence. She didn't seem to have one to give, though, and Alex sighed and looked back at Liz.

And Liz simply stared at him, waiting.

She knew they had no real reason to believe her. After all, how could she possibly be right about this? She was human – fully and completely – so how could she have seen what she saw?

Finally, Alex asked tentatively, "You're sure it wasn't just a coincidence?"

"I'm sure," Liz said. "I looked up Sydney's vital statistics. She died the same night that you guys faced Khivar. The same night that I had my dream about someone dying. And all the details, all the emotions… I told you I saw Max throwing and kicking things, right? I saw him feeling helpless and like it was his fault. Like he should have been able to stop this. I told you that, Maria. I told you all of it before I came back to Roswell. I _told_ you."

Maria nodded hesitantly. "You did tell me that."

"And you said you believed me," Liz continued, feeling a little hurt at the fact that Maria was questioning her now. She pushed herself to her feet and walked away from the two of them, quickly covering the length of her room. She felt full of energy and tension, and she needed to pace. She needed someway to get rid of it before it drove her crazy.

Maria, for her part, shrugged and said, "I know."

"And she did believe you," Alex said. "She showed up at Isabel's house convinced that one of them was going to die." He crawled off her bed as well and walked to her side. "But are you sure…?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" Liz snapped, spinning around to glare at him. "Do you really think I would make this up?"

Alex frowned. "Of course not," he said sharply, defensively, and Liz felt momentary guilt for raising her voice at him. It was Alex, after all. Of the entire group, he was the one who always went out of his way to be considerate and listen to everything she had to say before making a judgment.

It wasn't fair to lash out at him, and it wasn't fair to lash out at Maria. But she couldn't stop the worry that she felt, and the frustration at having to repeatedly explain herself.

And they were her two best friends. If they didn't believe her, how could she ever hope to convince the four hybrids that she had someone had a premonition of what was going to happen?

"I just… I'm not sure, Lizzie, that you're really thinking this through all the way," Alex said gently. "I'm not sure you're really aware of what the consequences of it are."

"What do you mean?" Liz asked.

"I mean," Alex replied, "that if you had some kind of premonition – an actual one, and not just a weirdly coincidental nightmare – then maybe… well…" He trailed off, and gave Maria an uncertain look.

Maria exhaled a breath of air and said bluntly, "He's saying that if you have alien gifts, you probably are an alien."

Alex sent her an annoyed look. "I wasn't going to phrase it _quite_ like that," he said.

"I'm not an alien," Liz countered immediately, horrified. "I'm human. You know that. We all know that." It didn't make any sense, how could either Alex or Maria be suggesting something like that?

"Yes, but getting visions of the future isn't exactly a human trait," Alex replied pointedly.

Liz stared blankly at him, unable to refute that point. She hadn't really thought about it like that, and although some part of her had simply decided to avoid the question of how she had gotten the dream, she realized she couldn't do that now.

"I've had flashes before," she said finally.

"Yes," Maria agreed. "When kissing Max. But you weren't kissing Max when you had that dream, were you?"

it was obviously a rhetorical question, but Liz answered anyway, offering a muttered, "No, I wasn't."

"So the question remains. How did you get a vision? And why?"

Liz sank onto her desk chair and buried her head in her hands. "I don't know," she answered, her voice muffled by her fingers and her hair, both of which obstructed her face from view.

"I think we need to meet with the others," Alex said. "I think we need to ask them. We need to figure this out. We need to find out what is happening to you."

Liz grimaced inwardly. She didn't really like the idea, even though she knew it couldn't be avoided. But she had not spoken to any of them since her return. And her conversation with Max had ended without much resolution of the tattered remains of their relationship. She had walked with him back into his house, and Mrs. Evans had wanted to know everything that was wrong. Once the older woman had learned of Sydney's death, she had quickly taken over carrying for her grieving son, and Liz had been left with nothing to do and no real reason to stay.

She had left with only a quick mumbled goodbye for Max, and now, with some space and time in between them, and a chance to think back rationally over what had happened, she really didn't think that anything had changed. Their emotions certainly hadn't, and if at the time she had been willing to overlook her own anger for the sake of helping him face Sydney's death…

Well, now she wasn't so sure she wanted to keep doing it.

"So, what does this mean?" Maria asked, interrupting Liz's thoughts. "We're going to call a meeting with the others? Let them all poke around inside Liz's head?"

"Oh… yeah, that sounds fun," Liz grumbled.

* * *

"This is ridiculous," Isabel said without any hesitation whatsoever. "How could Liz be having premonitions? It has to be a coincidence."

"That's one hell of a coincidence," Maria snapped in response, glaring at Isabel.

"Look, Maria and I were skeptical at first, too," Alex said in a conciliatory manner, "but… if I've learned anything from the four of you, it's that strange things do happen, and dismissing something just because it seems unlikely is never a good idea."

"This isn't unlikely," Isabel retorted. "It's _impossible_."

"How would it have even happened?" Tess asked. "I mean, think about it. Think about what you're suggesting. How would Liz have suddenly developed alien gifts?"

"She's been around the four of you a lot," Maria answered simply.

"Then why aren't the two of you also turning into little green men?" Michael asked pointedly, glancing between Maria and Alex. "Why didn't Kyle get alien powers? Or Max and Isabel's parents? Or, really, everyone in Roswell? If proximity is the cause…"

"So you're not even going to consider this?" Maria asked hotly.

Liz buried her head in her hands. She had been dreading this since they had called the meeting. The bickering between the group certainly hadn't changed in her absence, although it seemed a little more heated between Michael and Maria than she remembered. She wondered about that, wondered what was going on. Maria hadn't told her much, but she could tell that something was putting a strain on that relationship.

She had known all along that it would be hard to convince anyone to believe her. And so gathering here at Tess' apartment left her with a feeling of tension that she could not ignore. She didn't want to be the focal point of this discussion, she didn't want her first visit to all of them to be filled with arguments.

The others had barely even said hello when she appeared. Michael had greeted her with a look of barely concealed suspicion and a brief nod followed by, "Hello, Parker." Isabel had echoed that with her own hesitant words and a look of worry in her eyes which Liz understood perfectly well – they hadn't parted on the best of terms and it was hard to know if either of them had really gotten over everything that had happened.

And Tess… well, Tess had surprised her. She had greeted Liz with a simple smile and a dry comment of, "So you're actually stupid enough to come back to Roswell, land of the dull and uninteresting? The rest of the world too big and exciting for you?" It was acerbic and mocking, but it had lacked any real animosity. It was something Tess would have said to her before all of this happened, before the divisions that had occurred after the accident.

Liz forced herself out of her thoughts and glanced at Max. He was the hardest to read. He had said nothing during the meeting, just stared at her with a blank look in his eyes. His skin was still far too pale and his eyes were still rimmed with red. And the others were clearly toning down their words whenever they addressed him, treading on eggshells to keep from upsetting him.

Sydney's death had hit him hard.

"I think we have to at least consider the possibility that something happened to Liz, something that made her…"

"Made her what? Turn into a hybrid? I don't think so."

Liz glanced over at Michael and Maria who were still arguing over this. Maria looked thoroughly exasperated, and Michael was rolling his eyes in frustration.

"The ability to have premonitions is a mental power," Tess said after a long pause. "Like dream-walking or mind-warping. It's different from the more physical manifestations of power like what Max and Michael have."

"What's your point?" Michael demanded.

Tess sighed and ran a hand through her hair, giving Michael a look that said the answer to that question should have been obvious. "Boys," she muttered.

Her hair was straight today, Liz noticed abruptly with a frown. Tess didn't often wear it straight.

"Tess," Max said, speaking up and causing everyone to look at him with surprise, "can you please just explain whatever it is you're thinking?"

Tess gave him a startled look, and irritation flashed through her eyes. But she said, "Maybe something happened to her mind to give her that power. I don't know what exactly, but a mental gift like that should register in the subconscious. I think."

"You think?" Alex repeated cautiously.

Tess shrugged. "It's just a guess. But I think I'm right about this."

"Okay," Maria said. "So what's your point?"

"If Liz is having prophetic dreams, then maybe dream-walking her will give us the answers to how and why."

"Wait. _What_?" Liz's head snapped up and her gaze rested only briefly on Tess before looking at Isabel. The idea of allowing the statuesque blonde into her dreams was more than a little unnerving, but, surprisingly, Isabel looked just as uneasy with the entire idea.

"And maybe it won't," Isabel argued. "What do you expect me to find poking around inside her head, Tess? It's not like there will be big flashing signs that explain what happened."

"It's worth a shot," Tess answered with a slight frown. "And, at the moment, it's really the only idea that I have. That any of us have."

Isabel chewed her lip and looked at Liz. "Fine," she snapped.

But Liz still wasn't sure she was okay with this plan. On the other hand, as much as she did not want to open her mind to Isabel, she couldn't really think of another option. And if she was suddenly developing alien powers, she at least needed to know why. Which meant allowing Isabel to wander around her dreams.

She folded her arms over her chest and noticed Alex and Maria both moving a little bit closer to her, as though offering silent support. But Alex was also staring at Isabel with an odd look on his face, and she wondered if he, too, had picked up on Isabel's strange hesitancy.

"So… tonight, then?" Liz asked diffidently.

Isabel pursed her lips and nodded. "Tonight."

* * *

It was strange, sitting in the darkness of Liz's room. Alex was there, too, and Isabel was grateful for his presence, but it did little to relax her. She would have preferred to be in her own bedroom at home, but Tess had pointed out delicately that it might make more sense for her to be in Liz's room in case anything she found required urgent discussion.

The idea had too much merit to ignore, but Isabel felt a little put out that Tess did not offer to accompany her. Max, she knew, was still avoiding Liz, and with his emotions completely screwed up by Sydney's death, she didn't want to push it. Michael, though not avoiding Liz, did not seem to enjoy being in her presence, and Isabel had a feeling that having him around might have ended up being more distraction that help.

But Tess… Tess at least seemed to be completely indifferent to the brunette, and Isabel could have used the extra support.

She didn't like this. She didn't like what she was doing.

Liz was asleep. She was lying on her bed, sprawled under the covers. Her chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm. It had taken her a while to fall asleep, and it was clear that she was full of nervous energy. They had tried to make small talk while waiting for Liz to get tired, but the conversation had ended up awkward and strained, and they had eventually lapsed into silence.

And now…

Isabel stared down at the photograph. It was a yearbook picture from junior year. Was it only one yearago that everything had seemed so different? It was hard to fathom.

She rested two fingers on the photograph, covering Liz's face, and allowed herself to be pulled into the world of dreams.

_The air was hazy with fog and mist, and Isabel looked around, studying the unfamiliar landscape. A large building rose in front of them, and she could see Liz talking to a couple of girls near the front of the building. Isabel did not recognize them, but Liz clearly did, and the three of them were talking with ease and familiarity._

"_Boarding school," Isabel murmured under her breath._

_She turned away from Liz and walked slowly along the perimeter of the dream. She had no idea exactly what she was looking for, and she doubted she would be able to find it. But she had promised to at least try, and so she continued her search, eyes sweeping over everything, looking for anything that could be considered odd._

_The boarding school faded abruptly, the dream changing. And suddenly she was standing in the center of the Crashdown while Liz and Maria moved around her, waiting tables and laughing with each other. Max was sitting in one of the booths, his eyes never leaving Liz even as he talked to Michael. Isabel shook her head in faint disgust, this was Max during what she knew Tess referred to as his stalker phase, the time when he watched Liz every afternoon without ever going up to talk to her._

_Except this wasn't an ordinary afternoon._

"_Hey, look out!"_

_Isabel, like everyone else in the diner spun around at the shout, and watched in horror as the events played out before her. One man lunged at the other, there was the sound of terrified yelling from all the customers, and the sharp retort of the gun firing._

_And then silence._

_Isabel caught a glimpse of Max jumping to his feet, of Michael reaching out in an attempt to stop him, and then the diner began to fade into darkness. This was Liz's dream, and so would only show what she had experienced, and at this point, Liz was loosing consciousness._

_The darkness was filled with voices crying out, with chairs scraping across the linoleum floor, doors opening and closing, and the thud of footsteps. And Isabel waited with abated breath for the next voice she knew she would hear…_

_Max's._

"_Come on, Liz, look at me. I need you to look at me."_

_The darkness flickered as the dream expanded to show what Liz saw when she opened her eyes…_

_And in the haze and chaos that still filled the diner, Isabel caught sight of Courtney._

_Without thinking, the blonde surged forward, trying to reach the rebel skin. It did little good, though, because even as she drew close enough to reach out and grab Courtney, something pushed her backwards. She stumbled, nearly losing her balance, and reached out frantically, grabbing hold of the counter to steady herself._

Then she was out of the dream completely.

Alex was kneeling at her side, worrying causing lines to appear on his forehead. Liz had jerked upright in bed, her eyes wide open, her lips parted in shock. Isabel looked up and met the brunette's fearful gaze, and for a moment, neither said anything.

Then Liz asked hesitantly, as though she was afraid of the answer, "Is Courtney in my head?"

"I don't think so," Isabel answered, sitting up slowly. She had apparently slumped over during her trip into Liz's dreams, and had hit her head in the process. She rubbed at her forehead absently, fingers sliding over the sore spot. She already had a headache, but she wasn't sure if that was from hitting her head or from the stress of finding herself dealing with Courtney.

"Then what is it?" Liz demanded. "Because she was there. I _saw_ her."

Isabel chewed her lip. "I know. I know, I saw her, too. But maybe it was just part of the dream. Getting shot and the… what happened with Valenti and Alex…" she gave her boyfriend a quick, worried look, "they were both traumatic for you. So maybe you're subconscious is just combining them into one dream. Maybe if we had let the dream play out, we would have… I don't know, been at the funeral next… or something like that…"

But even as she said it, she knew it couldn't be true. Because something had prevented her from reaching Courtney. There was no reason why she wouldn't be able to grab hold of the other girl. Not that it would have done any good, given that it wasn't really Courtney in Liz's dream, but just an image of her, a figment of Liz's imagination. But it hadn't mattered to Isabel at the time, she'd been so enraged by the sight of the skin that all rational thought had flown from her mind.

She had wanted to hurt Courtney. She had wanted to make her pay.

"What happened?" Alex asked finally, cutting into the quiet. "You just… you were dream-walking her and then you suddenly stiffened and… and thrashed around a bit."

"I thrashed?" Isabel asked, surprised. She had never had any physical reactions to attempting to dream-walk someone. "When?"

"Right before you woke up," Alex answered.

"Right when you saw Courtney," Liz said pointedly. "This _means_ something, Isabel."

Isabel frowned, then nodded slowly. "Maybe," she agreed reluctantly. "We should talk to the others."

"Another meeting?" Liz asked warily. "Can't you just go back into my dreams and figure it out?"

Isabel stared at her. "But we don't know what it is we are trying to figure out," she protested. "I don't even know what this means."

"It means that Courtney did something to me, and I want to know what it is," Liz snapped. "What if she's the reason I'm getting prophetic visions?"

"Why would Courtney want to give you prophetic visions?" Isabel countered. "That doesn't make sense." She paused for a moment, thinking, then added, "I don't want to go poking around inside your head unless I know what I am up against. And if Courtney did do something to you, then… well, she's strong. Stronger than any of us realized. We might need help."

"Why don't you take one more look?" Liz pressed. "If you really can't figure it out than we can tell everyone else tomorrow. But I don't see why it would hurt to…"

"What's your rush?" Isabel asked sharply.

Liz sighed and swung her feet over the edge of the bed so that she was sitting facing Isabel and Alex. Rubbing both eyes with the heel of her hand, she said, "Courtney did something to me, Isabel. I know she did. I don't want to wait until it is convenient for everyone else to figure out what is going on. She killed Sheriff Valenti, she almost killed Alex…" She shook her head and looked away for a moment, collecting her thoughts. Then she turned back to Isabel and asked in an almost accusatory voice, "What are you so reluctant to help me?"

Isabel folded her arms over her chest and said, "You weren't there, Liz. You didn't fight Khivar with us, you didn't… you didn't see what he was capable of."

Liz's eyes narrowed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Isabel heaved a sigh. She had no idea how she could explain this to anyone who hadn't been there, who hadn't felt Khivar's presence all around them. And even Max, Michael, and Tess… they might have experienced his power, but they didn't know what it was like to be drawn to it. To have something inside of her desperately want to break free and take control.

Then Alex squeezed her hand lightly, and she turned to look at him. He was gazing at her with support in his eyes. But he was questioning her, too. He wanted to know why she wasn't automatically helping Liz, and she felt a sudden burst of irritation. He didn't understand what this was like for her, either.

"Khivar… when I was fighting him, he told me that the more I use my powers, the more I connect with my alien half," Isabel said quietly. "And he was right. I could _feel_ Vilandra inside of me. What you're asking me to do… we don't know how hard it will be or how dangerous it could be. If Courtney actually did something to you…" She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath. "I'm worried about what could happen."

"Nothing is going to happen," Liz said firmly. "But I need Courtney out of my head." Her eyes flicked to Alex in an unspoken statement; she didn't want to end up in a coma.

Isabel nodded. "But Tess might be better suited for this," she said. Although, of course, that was assuming they could convince Tess that mind-warping Liz wouldn't have disastrous side effects.

"Why?" Alex asked curiously.

Isabel shrugged. "Courtney can mind-warp. Whatever she did, Liz clearly has no recollection of it. So it was probably a mind-warp that made her forget. That's Tess' area of expertise." To Liz, she added, "We can meet after school tomorrow."

But Liz shook her head stubbornly. "Just take one more look, Isabel."

Isabel scrambled to her feet, glaring at Liz. "You don't even see it, do you?" she seethed suddenly. "You can't even hear how incredibly selfish you are being. And here I thought some time away might give you a chance to think about people other than yourself for a moment."

"_Isabel_!" Alex cried, shocked.

But Isabel didn't even stop to look at him. "You were so set on saving Alex that you didn't care about anyone or anything else. You were blind to all of the problems you caused, and then you had the gall to act as though you were somehow innocent in this mess. Like you didn't risk getting all of us exposed an carted off to the white room. Like you didn't nearly get yourself and Maria killed. Like you didn't stand there and tell us that it was our fault that Valenti was dead and Alex was in a coma. Like you did _nothing_ wrong."

"Do you think I _want_ you poking around in my head? I'd rather not have that happen, but Courtney killed people, and I don't have a choice…" Liz started, but Isabel kept talking.

"Then you run off to boarding school to make yourself feel better, and that's fine. You want a chance to be normal, good for you. But you weren't here when Khivar was in my dreams and you didn't have to fight him and you don't have a clue about the risks of what you're asking me to do right now. It's not like I just jump into your head and snap my fingers to fix everything. This is dangerous and it could hurt me. But do you even _care_?"

"Isabel, you need to calm down," Alex murmured.

She spun to glare at him. "Why? So I can listen to reason? So I can do whatever _Liz_ thinks is right?"

"If Courtney is in her head…" Alex started.

"And if Vilandra is in mine?" Isabel demanded. "Alex, we _know_ she's there. We know what she'll do if she gets free."

"You keep talking about her like she's separate from you," Liz said quietly.

Isabel rubbed her eyes wearily. "You don't get it, Liz," she said, the anger draining away and leaving her tired. "You don't get what it feels like."

It wasn't as though she always felt Vilandra's presence. In fact, she rarely felt her past-self's influence. But when Khivar was around, and when she used her powers extensively… she felt it then.

"Langley told Max that you had to stop being afraid," Alex argued. "You're going to have to use your gifts to fight the skins. When Khivar comes… you can't run and hide."

"Oh, well… then it has to be that simple, right?" Isabel muttered sarcastically. But Alex was still staring at her with an earnest expression, and Liz, though furious and incensed, was also clearly not backing down. And Isabel wasn't going to do this alone. "I'm calling Tess."

* * *

It took some persuasion – actually, it took a lot of persuasion – but eventually Tess had joined the other three, and now both of the hybrids were wandering around inside of Liz's dreams. Isabel was still furious about everything, but at least with Tess there she knew she was a bit safer. Whatever they would encounter in Liz's mind, it would be easier to deal with it together.

"_Where are we?" Tess asked._

"_Boarding school," Isabel answered, eyeing the large building in front of them. "Liz's last dream started here, too."_

"_Anything interesting?" Tess asked, searching rapidly until she caught sight of Liz chatting with a couple friends._

"_Not really. Liz has a boring life," Isabel muttered._

_Tess laughed. "I don't need to be inside her head to know that."_

_The dream shifted, and Isabel half-expected to see the Crashdown again, but instead they were at school. It seemed to be right after the shooting, and Liz and Max were sitting side-by-side in science class. Max was chewing on a pencil, and Liz was eyeing him cautiously as she fiddled with the microscope in front of him._

"_We're not going to find it," Isabel muttered. "We don't even know what we're looking for."_

_But Tess seemed less interested in looking for Courtney, and more interested in watching the scene in front of them play out. Max had put the pencil down, and Liz had grabbed it easily and slipped some of Max's cells from the pencil to the microscope slide._

"_Invasion of privacy," Tess muttered._

_Isabel rolled her eyes._

_And then the dream changed again._

_And Tess froze._

_They were at Sheriff Valenti's funeral._

_There was so much black everywhere, and Isabel let her eyes run over the crowd, taking in the tear-streaked faces and somber expressions. So many people had shown up, more than she remembered. But he had been the Sheriff, after all, and it made sense that he would be well-respected in the town._

"_Isabel," Tess said abruptly, and Isabel turned to follow her gaze._

_There was Courtney._

_Isabel stepped forward, but Tess caught her arm. "Don't," she said sharply. "She's not real. She's not in the dream, she's not part of it."_

"_How can you tell?" Isabel demanded, giving Tess a confused look._

_Tess stared at her for a long moment, then asked, "Don't you feel it? That grating sensation, like two rough edges running against each other… She's not there."_

_Isabel continued to stare at the image of Courtney. But she allowed her senses to move past anger and hate, and she could feel it, too. It was like running up against a wall. There was a barrier, and it was out of place here. It did not belong._

"_It's a mind-warp," Isabel said slowly. "Courtney mind-warped Liz. Tried to erase a memory. That's why I saw her in the dream. Whenever Liz is close to dreaming about whatever Courtney didn't want her to remember…"_

"_The mind-warp kicks in," Tess said. "The image of Courtney is acting like a seal, keeping out the memory." In confusion, she glanced over at the funeral, her eyes on Liz. "But what is it that Courtney doesn't want her to know?"_

_Isabel hesitated, then said, "Can you remove the mind-warp?"_

_Tess swallowed uneasily. "I guess… I can try," she murmured, clearly not pleased with this turn of events. And she closed her eyes and concentrated, and the dream began to slowly change._

_It was unclear at first, like a distorted reflection. They were in Liz's bedroom, that much was clear. But beyond that, Isabel couldn't see what was happening. She thought Liz was somewhere in the room, but everything was filled with shadows and fog, and she could not make out any concrete shapes._

_Next to her, Tess continued to focus, and the picture gradually became clear._

_Liz was backed up against the bed, and Courtney was standing in front of her, looking around in confusion and distaste. "Where's Max?" she asked. "I expected him to jump out of the closet of whatever by now."_

"_Liz's eyebrows rose. "I… what do you mean? He's not here."_

_Courtney pursed her lips and stared at Liz in unbridled disbelief. "You told him I was planning on coming back to hear his decision, didn't you?"_

_"I told him you would get in touch with me," Liz answered. "And we agreed that I could tell you, he didn't need to be here. I thought you might call, though. I didn't realize you planned on coming back in person."_

_Courtney said casually, "Tell Max if he wants to live, he'd better get over whatever problem he's got. Khivar's a hell of a lot better at this then I am. And he's actually going to be _trying_ to kill you."_

_"What do you mean?" Liz asked tentatively._

_With an impatient click of her tongue, Courtney said, "Don't you all believe me to be an enemy? A coldblooded killer who will happily murder all of you to obtain my ends? So if Max knew that I was planning on getting in touch with you again, regardless of whether it was by phone or in person, why isn't he here to protect you? God knows you're no match for me."_

_Tess suddenly gasped and doubled over and Isabel turned her attention to her friend. The shorter blonde still had her eyes closed, but it was clear that her concentration was breaking. The scene around them was already starting to get blurry again._

_"I didn't try," Courtney continued. "I never intended to tear apart your precious little group. That idea – quite a good one, now that I think about it – wasn't even on my radar. But Khivar… he will try. And if you all break this easily when I'm the one interfering…" She sighed, shook her head in despair. "You guys don't stand a chance against him."_

_A fog rolled in, obscuring the view. Isabel could still see the outlines of the figures, but the details were lost. She heard Courtney mutter, "Pathetic," under her breath, and then watched the rebel skin turn to go._

_Liz reached out and grabbed Courtney's arm, Tess gave a cry of protest, and Isabel found herself suddenly exiting the dream._

"Right there," Tess gasped, on her hands and knees on the floor of Liz's bedroom. "Right at that moment. When Liz grabs Courtney's arm… that's when the mind-warp really kicks in. I can't… I can't get past it. I don't even… it's stronger than… than anything else I think I've ever gone up against…"

Isabel was only numbly aware of Tess' words. She was lying on her back staring up at the ceiling of Liz's room, but not really seeing it. Alex leaning over her, and Liz was struggling awake in her own bed, and all Isabel could think of was that nothing with Courtney ever seemed to really be over.

"Can't you just break in somehow?" Liz demanded.

"Not without shattering your mind," Tess replied pointedly. "Something I assume you don't want me to do." She folded her arms over her chest and added, "The mind isn't a book, Liz. I can't just read it. It's complicated, even when you don't have someone as powerful as Courtney playing around with it."

"At least we were able to tell that Courtney made you forget something," Alex said, trying to sound positive. "That means something, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Isabel agreed. "But… but it doesn't mean that she's the reason you're having these dreams."

Tess glanced at the clock. It was late, and she doubted that this would be a problem they could fix at the moment. At least not without Max. When Kyle broke out of the mind-warp, it had nearly killed him. Granted, he had been in an alternate realm at the time, and that had certainly influenced how he had reacted, but still… Tess wasn't willing to take the risk. She wasn't going to do anything to Liz's brain unless Max was around to heal her.

Assuming they could get Max to agree to do anything at all right now.

"I remember that meeting with Courtney," Liz said quietly. "But after we were done talking, she just left. I don't remember reaching out to her, I don't remember trying to stop her. I don't remember any of that."

"Well, yes," Tess drawled, "that is the _point_ of a mind-warp."

"So what now?" Liz asked.

"Now we're back to where we started," Isabel said a bit bitterly. "We still need Max and Michael. And we can't do it now because neither Tess nor I are awake enough to risk poking around in your head. Let's meet tomorrow after school and figure this out."

Tess nodded in agreement. She was far exhausted and her head was pounding and she needed a bit more sleep before she could be expected to come up with a plan to remove a mind-warp that was far stronger than she had even thought possible.

Whatever had happened in that meeting, it was clear that Courtney didn't want anyone to know about it.

* * *

Next Chapter: Little Lost Boys (part one)

Due: Sun 2/6


	25. Little Lost Boys part one

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: So, this chapter has a flash inside a memory. And the memory is in _italics_, and the flash within in the memory is in **_bold italics_**. The memory and flash are taken from the scene between Courtney and Liz near the end of _Time After Time_. Also, I posted two chapters this time since I didn't get a chance to do it last weekend.

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Five: Little Lost Boys (part one)

"So… Courtney mind-warped you?" Michael said slowly, looking between Liz and Isabel as he folded his arms over his chest, "But this isn't why you're suddenly having visions of the future?"

"Yes," Liz said. "Or… well, I don't know. We're not sure. That's why we need to figure out a way to remove the mind-warp."

"We could just trap her in an alternate realm until her mind starts to melt," Isabel suggested wearily, rubbing her eyes and sinking onto the sofa. "That worked for Kyle."

"Oh, yes, there's a good idea," Tess muttered. But she had to admit that Isabel had a point, even if it wasn't the point that the hybrid Princess had planned on making. Kyle had nearly died, and Liz might come close to it, too. There were risks involved in this, risks that Liz didn't seem to be taking very seriously.

Of course, if Courtney had done something to her, then not figuring out what it was and undoing it had its own set of risks.

Alex glanced worriedly at Liz and then turned to Tess. "But you can undo it, right?"

Tess shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. It's stronger than anything I'm used to." She hesitated, wanting to say more, but caught herself. It wasn't the right time or place to point this out, but eventually they would need to face the truth that Courtney was a lot stronger than any of them had given her credit for. They had known she was powerful, true, but not _that_ powerful.

Not capable of the kind of strength that Tess had felt in Liz's mind.

And if Courtney could do that, who knew what Khivar could do?

"We have to do something!" Maria said angrily.

"Nobody is denying that," Tess snapped. "But I'd like to not end up killing Liz." She looked at Max for a moment, then said, "I think our best bet is to do the same sort of thing we did when fixing Alex's mind. Isabel and I can work on removing the mind-warp, Michael can lend his strength, and you can focus on keeping Liz alive."

Which would mean connecting with her. Allowing the flashes to move between the two of them, allowing Liz to feel his emotions and being willing to feel hers.

"Do we really have to do all that?" Isabel murmured tiredly. "Does it honestly take all four of us to undo what Courtney did? Because if she is stronger than all four of us… then I don't like these odds when we go up against Khivar."

Tess sighed. So much for avoiding that particular issue…

"Look, what happened to Alex was also Courtney's fault. She screwed up his mind, just like she's playing around with Liz's," Tess said. "And I don't think it is as bad as what she did to Alex, since Liz is clearly not in a coma. But she still didn't want this mind-warp to be removed, and she didn't even want it to be found. So she must have put all of her strength behind it, and since we don't know much about how to do this… I just don't want to take chances."

"I agree," Alex said instantly, giving Isabel a slightly apologetic look.

Isabel stared at him, then looked at Liz. "Fine," she agreed, her tone bitter. Tess didn't know exactly what had transpired between Isabel and Liz before she had arrived at Liz's house the night before, but whatever it was, neither girl seemed inclined to be particularly friendly towards the other.

"And then what?" Michael demanded. "Will we figure out why Liz is now part alien?"

"I'm not part alien!" Liz snapped.

"Is there something wrong with being part alien?" Isabel asked coldly. "There must be, otherwise you wouldn't have been so anxious to get away from all of us."

"Because you're making her feel so welcome now," Maria sneered.

"She's the one who left, Maria, and we've been over this many, _many_ times," Isabel retorted, flushing with anger. "Stop blaming all of _us_ because _she_ decided to walk away."

"Okay, everybody _stop it_," Alex said, raising his voice slightly and glaring at all of them. He looked uncharacteristically upset as he continued fiercely, "Don't you understand that this is serious? Liz could end up in a _coma_. She could die. And maybe none of you have any idea of what that is like, but _I_ do. And I _don't_ want it to happen to her."

There was a moment of complete silence, and then Michael looked at Tess and said, "So what do we do?"

"Link hands," Tess said quietly, struck by the hurt and anger in Alex's words and the stormy expression in his eyes. "The five of us… you, too, Liz…" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then said, "Okay. Now I guess we just… concentrate."

"You guess?" Liz asked nervously.

"Well, it's not like I've ever done this before," Tess answered.

* * *

She could feel his fear and grief.

Grief for Sydney, which seemed to fill him fully, wrapping around every cell in his body. He couldn't let go, and the grief was mixed with guilt and fury and a feeling of helplessness that she remembered from her nightmare.

From her vision.

But there was the fear, too. Max's emotions nearly overwhelmed her, and she struggled to make sense of all of it. She was only dimly aware of Tess in her mind, only vaguely noticed that the hybrid Queen seemed to be making a point of having her presence be obvious. Mind-warps, she remembered, were supposed to be subtle and quiet, but Tess was being loud and blunt in an effort to make sure everyone else knew what she was doing.

But it was Max that overwhelmed everything.

They weren't flashes, not really. Just feelings that passed between them, associated with hazy memories that she did not so much witness as simply know where there without having to see them. And they took her back, tumbling through time…

He was terrified. Because Jim was dead and Alex was dying and Tess had already been in the white room. He had seen the haunted look in her eyes after being in Pierce's hands, and this investigation into Jim's death was only serving to make him scared. Didn't anyone else realize what would happen if they had gotten exposed? Or was he the only one who remembered how Tess had flinched and pulled away from them for months after her ordeal?

Her head was starting to hurt. Whatever Tess was doing, it was causing pain. Was this something that Courtney had built in, a way of destroying her brain if anyone tried to access the locked-away memory? Probably… it seemed like something Courtney would do, a fail-safe to keep her secret hidden.

Max's presence in her mind increased, soothing the pain in her head but bringing even more emotions. They crashed into her, nearly taking her breath away. It felt as though he was trying to block them, trying to keep himself separate from her, but there was no way to heal her without a connection, and he couldn't prevent some things from slipping through…

_You don't want to think that this was done by an alien because that would mean you are responsible._

Her own words. And his reaction, his anger and his guilt. Because he had killed. He had killed Pierce and he knew what it meant to be responsible for another person losing a life. He had killed Pierce… and he had failed to save Sydney.

Liz wanted to say something, anything, but she couldn't think of the words, and it was too late, anyway. There was a burst of blinding pain and she nearly screamed, She tried to lift her hands to her head, wanted to dig her nails into her scalp to make the pain stop, but she couldn't. People were holding her hands and she couldn't tear free from them, and even if she could have, she wasn't sure she would have the energy to do so.

Max's presence grew, and the soothing feeling of his healing gift did not stop the sense of betrayal that was everywhere. The anger at the fact that she had run off with Maria to Las Cruces, had nearly gotten them both killed, had nearly gotten everyone exposed… and didn't _anyone_ remember the white room?

The pain intensified and then eased, and she gasped and felt her eyes burning with unshed tears, and then…

_Courtney turned to go, but Liz reached out suddenly and grabbed her arm, and she was thrown headlong into a flash, the kind of intense vision she had not experienced since her first few kisses with Max._

_**The punch hit Nicolas squarely in the jaw, and everyone stared in stunned silence. Courtney gaped in disbelief as she slowly crawled to her feet and watched the scene unfold, Nicolas and Trevor squaring off over Michael. **_

_**Nicolas took a few steps backward.**_

_**"I believe in Khivar," Trevor said, his words firm and hard and angry. "And I always will. But I won't watch you torture my brother."**_

_**Courtney looked at Michael, who was writhing in pain and agony, only barely aware of the argument that was going on over his head, an argument about loyalty and family and beliefs.**_

_**She looked away from Michael then, towards the gates of the compound. The others had gotten out safely, taking the now-revived Isabel with them. It was just herself and Michael still left her, surrounded by skins.**_

_**"Then you have chosen them," Nicolas snarled. An ultimatum. "You have chosen to be my enemy."**_

_**There was a complete silence, so tense, so full of unspoken dislike and disgust, and Courtney could only stare. The pain of the attack had slowly faded, but she was still breathing heavily, still aching in places. It all faded into the background, though, as she watched Trevor's alliances slowly shift.**_

_**"Yes," he said, a low whisper. "I guess I have."**_

_**After all this time… he was leaving Khivar. She couldn't quite believe it.**_

_**Then both Nicolas and Trevor attacked each other at exactly the same time, and a bright white light engulfed the entire courtyard. Courtney, prepared for it, threw herself to the ground, covering her eyes with one arm. All around her, the other skins cried out in surprise, temporarily blinded by the burst of light, but as it faded, she quickly opened her eyes and surveyed the scene.**_

_**Nicolas was dead.**_

_**He lay on the ground, eyes staring unseeingly up at the sky. His gaze was vacant, his face colorless. The air around him crackled with the remnants of energy, leftovers from the brutal attack.**_

_**The other skins were slowly blinking, climbing back to their feet, hands held out before them as though blinding searching for their sight. If she was going to get Michael out of here, she had to do it now.**_

_**She hurried to Michael's side, but was brought up short by the sight of Trevor.**_

_**Alive.**_

_**She could see the furious determination in his expression. He was not going to die. He was going to get back up and continue the fight if he had to. He was going to protect Michael at all costs.**_

_**And Trevor knew what she was planning. Trevor knew that she was after the Destiny Book, and that she would do anything at all to get her hands on that translation. Trevor **_**knew**_**.**_

_**"You turned on Khivar," she said to him. "You killed Nicolas."**_

_**He looked up her and answered in a choked voice, "I won't let anyone hurt my brother. Not Nicolas, not Khivar… not even you, Courtney."**_

_**She nodded slowly, knowing what he said was true, and knowing that he was too weak to her fight her now. "I know. And that's the problem." And then she reached down and pressed her hand firmly against his chest, watching as the heat spread out from her fingers, watching as his eyes glazed over, watching as he took his last, labored breath, and then died.**_

_**Michael started moving, rolling onto his side, and she hurried to him. He crawled to his feet, looking dazed and bewildered, and she reached out and grabbed him, steadying him before he could fall back down. He seemed almost completely out of it, but the skins would attack just as soon as they got over their surprise and confusion at Nicolas' death, and they were running out of time.**_

_**"Come on!" she said urgently. "Let's go. Come on, Michael. Move!"**_

_**He nodded mutely and followed her, tripping over his own feet. She supported as much of his weight as she could, letting him lean against her. They moved towards the gates of the compound, each step far too sluggish for Courtney's liking, each shift of Michael's weight painstakingly slow.**_

_**Then Michael stopped, his eyes falling on Nicolas' slowly disintegrating body. "Nicolas…?" he asked, his tone forced and scratchy, his throat dry.**_

_**"Dead," Courtney confirmed, her tone flat. "Trevor killed him."**_

_**Fear passed momentarily through Michael's eyes. "Where's… Trevor…?" he asked.**_

_**She looked at him, saw the pain in his eyes as he guessed that his brother was dead. Looking away quickly, she answered in a whisper, "I'm sorry."**_

_**And she was truly sorry. She didn't like killing, took no pleasure or glory in ending another life. It was necessary, sometimes, and they were at war. But she did not relish the job, did not find any joy in what she had done. And neither did she like causing Michael pain. **_

_**She was sorry.**_

_**But not sorry enough to change anything that she had done, anything that she still planned to do.**_

_Liz stumbled backwards, staring at Courtney in horror. "Michael said Nicolas killed Trevor," she whispered._

_Courtney's expression hardened. "Well, you can't have expected me to tell him the truth," she sneered. But her cold expression softened somewhat as she peered at Liz, and then she continued, "You received a flash?" Tilting her head to the side, she murmured, "I guess they were right. Max healing you did change you somehow."_

_"They? Who is they?"_

_"The scientists," Courtney said. "They said that if Max used his gift of healing on humans, it would change them somehow. He's the only one that happens with, though. Tess, Isabel, and Michael don't have to worry about that…" She trailed off for a moment, then added, "They were unclear what the change is, but obviously they were right that there would be one."_

_"I've received flashes before from Max," Liz protested._

_"You're connected, because he healed you. It's… difficult to explain. But I don't think he can really hide things from you, not if you want answers. You can… well, you can see into his mind, sort-of…" Courtney sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Like I said, it's complicated."_

_"But Maria received flashes once from Michael," Liz pressed, shaking her head in denial. "And Max has never healed Maria."_

_"Maria probably received it because Michael was willing to show her whatever she saw," Courtney answered. "Flashes come from a connection, but both parties usually have to be willing participants. If the need is great enough, sometimes we can send images without the consent of the other person… that's what Tess did to Isabel when she was kidnapped by Whitaker, and what Isabel did to Michael when she was kidnapped by Rath. And we can also pull memories out of people's mind, like what Tess did to me and what Nicolas used to do to pretty much anyone whenever he wanted. But that's only if you're an alien. Humans shouldn't have the ability to receive a flash if the alien doesn't want to send it… and trust me, I didn't mean to send you anything."_

_"What does that mean…?" Liz murmured._

_"It means that you've changed," Courtney answered. "But don't worry, you're still fully human. You're just… different, I guess."_

_"Why are you telling me all this?" Liz asked suspiciously. _

_Courtney shrugged and drew closer to Liz. "It doesn't matter," she said, reaching up and pressing her fingers against the side of Liz's head. "You're not going to remember it anyway."_

Liz found herself on her hands and knees on the floor of Michael's apartment, her head throbbing painfully. They had fallen out of the circle at some point, although she seemed to be the only person on the floor. Both Alex and Maria were kneeling close to her, anxiety etched into their expressions, but the others had pulled away. Michael was staring at her, but Max, Isabel, and Tess…

They were all staring at Michael.

"Did everyone see?" Liz asked, and though no one verbally answered her question, Michael turned and grabbed the nearest object – a lamp – and threw it furiously against the wall. It shattered into several little pieces that littered the floor, and that was enough of an answer for Liz.

"What happened?" Alex asked, eyes switching back and forth between Liz and Michael. "What's going on? What did you see?"

"How dare she?" Michael fumed, tears pricking at his eyes. Tears that did not fall, but rather stayed there, turning everything watery. He was shaking with rage, and as he backed away from them and grabbed another object – a chair, this time – Liz could not help but flinch in fear. Even though she knew that there was no reason to, because even in his fury and grief Michael would never deliberately hurt any of them.

He threw the chair against the wall.

"How could she do this? How _could_ she?" he spat. "Was this all a game to her? Was everyone expendable?"

The windows started shaking, the glass rattling, and Liz rose unsteadily to her feet, leaning heavily on Alex.

"Michael," Isabel said softly, and then stopped, seemingly at a complete loss for how to finish her thought. After all, what could she say? What could any of them say?

He whirled around to look at her, raw ferocity in his eyes. It softened for just a brief moment at the look of real worry on Isabel's features, but then he said in a hard, flat tone, "_What_?"

"Michael, what's going on?" Maria asked, moving to his side with obvious trepidation. "What did you see? What happened?"

He stared uncomprehendingly at her, then shook his head. "I can't… I can't be here. I need to… think…" And he pushed past Maria and stormed to the door.

"Michael, wait!" Maria called, but he did not even hesitate. He marched into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind him.

* * *

When Michael didn't show up to school the next day, Max was worried. When he didn't answer his phone, Max was even more worried. When Isabel, Tess, Maria, and Alex all had no idea where he was, Max was near panic. And when Michael had called and told Max that he was fine and to leave him alone, Max did not actually feel any of the panic subside.

He was sprawled on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling and trying desperately to come up with a way to fix all of this for Michael, when his mother knocked on the door and entered the room. He rolled over and looked at her, and felt incredibly tempted to tell her to leave him alone.

"Max? Are you alright?" Diane asked.

Max sat up and pulled his knees into his chest. "Fine," he said, biting off the word.

"Is this about the little Davis girl?" Diane questioned, taking a few more steps into the room and leaning against the wall.

"Among other things," Max said. He wasn't sure how much his mother knew about Sydney beyond what he himself had told her. Did she understand his guilt? Did she know that he had tried and failed to heal her? That he hadn't been able to save Sydney despite all his attempts…

"What other things?"

Max shrugged. "Just… stuff."

"You can talk to me about it, you know," Diane said gently. "I am your mother, after all."

He had tried to push her away so many times, and he had no idea why it hadn't worked. But neither of his parents seemed willing to go back to being oblivious, and it did nothing besides increase his own worry for them. Didn't they know that they were in danger? Didn't they _understand_?

"You and Dad should leave," he said suddenly. "Take a sabbatical. Go away for a few months."

Diane narrowed her eyes in surprise, and studied Max for a long moment, The something close to realization dawned, and she asked suspiciously, "Are you planning on fighting soon?"

"I don't know," Max admitted. They had hurt Khivar pretty badly, at least that's what Kristalia and Ahab believed. Badly enough that they had some time to plan, to prepare, before the attack. But he didn't know how much time, and he didn't know how long the fighting would take. Would it only be a day, or would it rage for weeks? For months?

Wars were not fought quickly.

But, he reflected, this one had not been fought quickly. It had been fought for decades already, even if they had only joined the battle in the last year.

"We're not leaving," Diane said firmly. "Your father and I are not going to run and hide. Not while you and Isabel are in danger."

"You can't help us," Max said honestly. "You can't fight with us, you can't fight against them. You'll just get yourself killed and I can't…" He stopped abruptly, nearly choking on the words. He couldn't lose anyone else, couldn't fail to save someone _again_, couldn't survive another death. He just _couldn't_.

"I don't think your father or I were planning on fighting," Diane answered with a smile. "Max, we're not as oblivious or stubborn as you seem to think. We _know_ that we can't fight this war for you, no matter how much we may want to."

"Then why won't you just let go? Why can't you just leave?" Max demanded hoarsely.

"One day you will have children and you will understand," Diane said simply.

Max pushed himself off the bed and started pacing, filled with anger and irritation. "It wasn't that easy before," he snapped, shaking his head. "You were terrified of me for a long time, Mom. I _remember_ that."

"Yes," Diane said, her voice suddenly brittle, "I remember it, too."

Max paused for a moment, long enough to wonder if she harbored anger for what they had done to her. Those dreams, the way Isabel had played with her mind after she had witnessed the blue crystals take over her husband…

Had she been hurt when she learned the truth? Had she been angry? He had never asked her about it, had never really apologized for it.

"It's not easy, being afraid of your own child," Diane admitted.

"I'm sorry," Max whispered.

Diane smiled. "I know. I've known that all along." She walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, staring up at him as he resumed pacing. "It's in the past now, Max. It's over and done with, and I am more interested in dealing with the present and the future."

"How can you just…?" Max stopped, didn't finish the question. He wasn't really sure what he had wanted to ask anyway. Maybe he wanted to know how she could so easily forgive his lies and move on, like it didn't even matter. Maybe he wanted to know how she could still love him, despite everything. Or maybe he just wanted to know how she could act as though the world wasn't close to ending when they both knew that it was.

And not just in the figurative sense.

"I'm your mother," Diane said, and she had repeated it so many times during the past few months that Max wondered if she was afraid that he had forgotten.

He supposed he couldn't blame her if she was.

"And I can't fight this war," Diane continued, "but that doesn't mean you can't talk to me about it. And it doesn't mean I can't help. I _know_ something is bothering you right now. So tell me what it is."

"I _can't_."

"Why not?" she challenged.

Max sat down on the bed, far enough away from her to make a point.

"Will the world end if you tell me? Will it put me in any more danger than I am already in? Will it cause you to lose the war?" Max didn't answer, and she added softly, "Will it hurt you somehow?"

Max expelled a breath.

"What's on your mind?" Diane pressed.

"Sydney," he said at last. "And Michael's brother. And Courtney and Alex. And Liz. And… and Khivar. All of it. I don't know how… I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to help Michael and I don't know how to stop Khivar and I can't… I can't even _begin_ to think of how to interact with Liz…"

* * *

"Did you forgive Liz?" Max asked, cornering Tess at school the next day.

Tess looked up, eyes widening in surprise. "Why do you care?" she asked, suspicion coloring her voice.

Max shrugged uncomfortably. "I just…" He couldn't really explain it to her. When healing Liz after they had broken the mind-warp, he had seen her emotions. But he had also been aware of his own, of the feelings that he was projecting into her mind no matter how hard he tried to stop it. He wasn't sure if that was all because of the healing or if it had been Liz's new-found gifts subconsciously pulling his thoughts from him… But he knew what she had seen.

His own fear of exposure had been strong, as well as his memories of what Tess had gone through at Pierce's hands.

He looked down at the books he was carrying in his hands, and then at Tess. The blonde was absently playing with the strap of her backpack as she gave him a searching stare.

"I'm just curious," Max said finally.

"Oh. Well…" Tess gave him one last, long look, then said, "I can't blame her for wanting to save Alex. She was right about that, about wanting to protect him, to heal him. She was right that we don't… we _can't_… just leave people behind. And all the other stuff… risking our lives and blaming us for what happened… I didn't so much forgive her as I stopped caring about what she had done. I guess if I really thought about it I would still be mad, but… but I don't think about it. I moved on."

"Why? Don't you ever worry about exposure?"

He saw it, the brief reappearance of that haunted expression as it flickered through her eyes. It was gone as quickly as it had come, but he knew it was there, beneath her calm mask. She had not forgotten, and she still worried about it.

She swung her backpack onto her shoulders. "We're in this together, Max. I've lost too many people. Andrew and Jessica. Jim. Even Kyle's gone now…" She sighed. "And you love her. You can deny it all you want, but you are pathetically in love with Liz Parker. Which means she is part of this crazy mess of a family that we've got. And if I can't forgive, then I can at least move on. That's what you do for family."

"When did you become so understanding of people?" Max asked sharply, unable to believe that the same girl who had, two years ago, truly despised Liz was now coming to her defense.

"Oh, I'm not," Tess said quickly, a sardonic smile gracing her lips. "This is really just a fluke."


	26. Little Lost Boys part two

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: I've posted two chapters with this update, so if you haven't read the previous one (Little Lost Boys part one), you should go back and do that or this won't make any sense.

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Six: Little Lost Boys (part two)

Trudy had never paid much attention to the odd assortment of acquaintances Tess had outside her immediate friends, but if she was ever forced to actually think about it, she would find herself surprised that Tess deigned to speak to any of them. Of course, the petite blonde tolerated Max because he was Isabel's sister, and Michael because he was Isabel's friend, and Alex because he was Isabel's boyfriend, and Liz because she used to date Kyle, and Maria because their parents had been dating.

Still… she seemed to spend a lot more time with them than was normal.

But it didn't really matter to Trudy, and, anyway, she was smart enough not to ask Tess about it as it only ever seemed to make the other girl annoyed.

But that didn't mean she didn't notice when Tess was suddenly upset about something relating to those other acquaintances. And it didn't mean that she didn't recognize the worry in her friends eyes and know that it was related to something she wouldn't really understand.

Michael Guerin had been absent from school for two days. This coincided roughly with both Liz Parker's return and Max Evans' obvious grief over something. Whether they were all related or not was completely beyond Trudy's knowledge, but what she did know was that Tess spent much of each of her classes either staring worriedly at Max, thoughtfully at Liz, or uneasily at Michael's empty seat.

It disturbed Trudy a little.

But not as much as it disturbed her every time Kyle was mentioned and Tess' eyes shadowed over with real, vivid, unadulterated anxiety.

So it was at lunch on the third day of Michael's absence that she asked her friend tentatively, "How's Kyle?" and was rewarded by a sharp look from Tess.

Tess seemed to freeze for a long moment, and then she let out a breath and said, "He's coping. Sort of. Have you spoken to him recently?"

Trudy winced. "I call," she answered, "but we never really talk about anything substantial." Conversations with Kyle had gotten more and more insipid since his departure. It was nearly impossible to get him to say anything of importance, and though she continued to call because she wanted to show that she still cared, she wasn't sure how much good it was doing for either of them.

Tess nodded, looking not at all surprised. "He's been doing that to me, too," she admitted. "Lately, when I talk to him, he just wants to talk about sports." She chewed her lip for a moment, then said in a low voice, "I think he might be a little lonely."

"I thought he was making friends," Trudy asked, eyebrows raised. She had never really picture Kyle as a loner, and could not imagine that he hadn't somehow formed another group to replace the one he left behind.

She wondered with a momentary pang if he had also found another girlfriend.

"He is," Tess agreed. "And he's having a good time with everything. I know he is. But… it was a big change for him, and to come so soon after Jim…" She trailed off with sigh and looked away.

And stiffened.

Trudy followed her gaze and saw Michael entering the quad, a backpack slung over one shoulder. He had not been in classes in the morning, and so she surmised that he must have only been arriving at that moment. She watched him curiously, noting that he looked almost hunched over and certainly angry.

He walked over to the table currently inhabited by Max, Isabel, and Alex and sat down. Isabel tried to say something to her, and it was clear that he had somehow indicated that he did not want to talk, because she pulled back from with a jerky movement and then folded her arms across her chest and said nothing.

Trudy looked at Tess.

The blonde was staring intensely at Michael, and it appeared as though she might actually go over to talk to him. But after a long pause, she looked away, focusing her attention back on Trudy.

"I wonder what's going on with him," Trudy said quietly. When Tess gave her a blank stare and pretended not to have any idea what Trudy was talking about, she refrained with some difficulty from rolling her eyes and said, "Michael Guerin. He hasn't been in school for the past couple days."

"Who hasn't been in school?" Chris asked, suddenly appearing behind Tess and dropping his food onto the table. Jessica was standing behind him, and she walked around the table and took the spot next to Trudy. Tess smiled at both of them, and Chris returned the smile before switching his attention back to Trudy.

"Michael Guerin," she answered.

Chris' eyebrows furrowed, and he said, "Guerin, huh?" He scanned the quad before finding the teenager in question. "Hm… well, he's here now. And apparently avoiding people."

Trudy glanced over again in time to see Michael suddenly jump to his feet and stalk away from the table. He was halfway across the quad when he ran into Maria and Liz, and after what appeared to be another short argument, he stormed away from the two of them as well.

Maria stared after him, an unreadable expression on her face.

"It's like a soap opera," Jessica said.

"We don't even know what they are arguing about," Trudy pointed out logically.

Jessica considered this for a moment, then shrugged casually and said, "We could make it up. Guerin hasn't been at school for a few days, so he's clearly on some secret government mission. And he's avoiding Maria and Liz because he got them both pregnant. But he's actually in love with Isabel, who it will turn out is his long lost sister, so that's going to be a problem. And his evil twin is going to come and pretend to be him…"

Tess choked on the water she had been drinking, and when Trudy turned to look at her in surprise and a bit of concern, she flushed pink and forced a smile.

"Are you alright?" Jessica asked.

"Fine. Just… water went down the wrong tube," Tess explained, coughing a few times. She put the water bottle down and added, "And I think your idea is a little far-fetched. If for no other reason then no government agency is going to be stupid enough to hire Guerin to do anything."

"That's what he _wants_ you to think," Jessica answered with a grin. "But he's more than he appears. He's not even human. He's a robot designed to assassinate people."

"If he's a robot, how did he get Maria and Liz pregnant, and how would he have a sister?" Chris asked skeptically.

"He's a really _advanced_ robot," Jessica answered.

"This conversation is making not making sense anymore," Trudy said quietly.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Was this conversation making any sense in the first place?"

Trudy had to agree with that particular sentiment. Jessica somewhat bizarre imagination was always amusing, but rarely lead to anything that had logic or reason in it. But Jessica didn't seem to mind, and it was clear by the way she was gazing towards the sky that she was attempting to come up with more unrealistic explanations for the scenario that they had seen.

Trudy shook her head in amusement and turned to look at Tess.

Tess was staring out across the quad in the same direction Michael had gone.

* * *

The room was empty, save for the boxes lining the far wall and the three tables that were pushed near the door to the back room. The floor was clean, not a single speck of dirt or dust remaining. Max looked down, and could see his own reflection staring up at him.

"You're a smart kid, Max," Brody was saying. "You'll find another job." He looked uneasy and apologetic, but he was also clearly too preoccupied with other things to allow his concern for Max to interfere with his plans.

Max gestured to the empty UFO Center and said, "It's not the job or the money, Brody. I just… you're giving it all up. All your dreams about…"

"About what?" Brody demanded, his words far angrier than Max had ever heard. "About making contact with aliens? What's the _point_?"

"It was everything you worked for," Max protested. "You can't just give up on it. This was your life's work."

It was strange to see the place so empty and clean and quiet. Max was used to the usual disarray of papers and books scattered on tables and newspaper clipping posted on the walls. And if the UFO Center only attracted the occasional tourist, he still used to that, too. Not this too-clean room, too-sterile room.

"It was my life's work," Brody said simply, turning away from Max. "It isn't anymore." He walked over to one of the boxes and gazed at it for a moment, then pulled a large black pen out of his pocket and began writing on the side. "The movers will be here tomorrow to take everything away, and then I'll put the space up for sale or rent. I'll get an agent to deal with it so I can get out of town."

"You're going to leave Roswell?"

Brody studied Max for a long time, then shrugged. "No reason to stay. I didn't find the aliens."

"Doesn't mean they're not still out there," Max answered stubbornly.

Brody sighed and leaned back, resting his hands on the top row of the boxes. "Like I said, what's the point?"

"I thought you wanted…"

"I wanted to find aliens," Brody said sharply, bitterly. "I wanted to find the aliens who had healed me, who had taken away my sickness, so that they could take away _hers_ as well." There was no need to say anything else, no need to explain exactly what he meant, but he did anyway. "Sydney. It was always for Sydney. No one else understood that, not even Melissa. But it doesn't matter now, does it? It's too late. She's… gone."

Max flinched.

He knew, logically, that it wasn't an attack against him. Brody had no idea that he was an alien, no idea that he had the power to heal. No idea that he was the one who had failed here, he was the one who had not saved Sydney. And if Brody had no knowledge of any of that, how could he blame Max?

But it did nothing to ease Max's guilt, because he still blamed himself. The anger and heartbreak that he saw reflected in Brody's eyes, and the heavy resignation that lay beneath his actions, only served to increase the hybrid King's feelings of blame, whether Brody meant it or not.

And what would Brody say if he knew the truth? Would he hate Max? Would he blame him for all this?

"What are you going to do?" Max asked finally.

"I don't… I don't know," Brody admitted slowly.

Max looked at him them, really looked. His face was lined with wrinkles that had not been there before all this, and his eyes, which were usually so expressive, seemed to be slowly losing all emotion, the feelings fading away even as Max watched. His hair stuck out at odd angles like it often did, but it looked more rumpled and unkempt them usual. And his skin was sallow and pale and his entire body exuded weariness.

The UFO Center looked so strange, so foreign, in all its emptiness. But Brody was quickly becoming unrecognizable as well, turning into someone Max didn't know and wasn't sure how to relate to.

Because of Sydney. Because she was dead.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. "I'm sorry that I couldn't help more."

Brody frowned. "I didn't let you help much with any of the actually important things," he pointed out, his gaze moving automatically towards the back room. "So it was hardly your fault."

Max licked his dry lips and wanted desperately to refute that statement. It _was_ his fault, after all, and shouldn't he have to suffer the consequences of it?

"I was so close," Brody said after a pause. "I kept feeling like… like the answer was right in front of me. If I could just open my eyes I would see it." He shook his head. "But maybe it was always a fool's dream. Maybe it wouldn't have mattered if I had found them. Maybe… maybe they wouldn't have helped her."

"I'm sure they would have wanted to," Max answered.

"Maybe," Brody said softly, "but who knows?"

There was a long silence as Max searched desperately for something to say. But any of his words would have been empty, meaningless. He had seen both Kyle and Tess struggle with Jim's death and knew that this sort of grief didn't have an simple answer and couldn't be easily fixed.

But he cared about Brody, and he had cared about Sydney.

And yet, apparently not as much as he cared about Tess. Not as much as he cared about the rest of his family. And when it had come down to it, he had given up trying to save Sydney. He had allowed himself to be talked out of it because the risk of exposure was so high, and because he had already tried once and failed.

He had put his own life above hers, and now she was dead.

"I know you've got your own reason for wanting to find aliens," Brody said finally, breaking the silence, "so I've left you something. Some equipment. It's in the back room, you can take a look at it. I've left instructions, too, and I know you've got some smart friends so you can probably figure it all out." He hesitated, looking contrite, and then explained, "I would have shown you how to use it myself, but I just can't… I can't even look at it right now. Any reminder of aliens is just… it's too much."

Max nodded. "Thank you," he said, his throat dry.

"You're a good kid, Max," Brody repeated his earlier sentiment. "And… and you're special. I've known that since you first started working here. If there are aliens in Roswell, you will find them."

Max closed his eyes and thought to himself that Brody had no idea just how right he was.

* * *

"And now Michael isn't even speaking to me," Maria grumbled. "It's almost like he doesn't remember that we are supposed to be dating. I mean… he's my boyfriend. I think."

"It's not you," Alex countered. "He's not speaking to anyone. Isabel says he won't talk to her or Max or Tess unless it is about training for this war. And he keeps skipping classes."

Liz looked up from the homework assignment she was supposed to be working on and nodded in agreement. Michael's behavior, though annoying, was not particularly surprising or even incomprehensible. The truth behind Trevor's death had obviously hit him hard, particularly given that Trevor had switched loyalties in the end.

She wanted to tell Maria to be patient, that Michael would come around in time. But patience had never been her best friend's strongpoint, and Liz herself had been gone from Roswell long enough that she wasn't actually entirely sure if Michael would come around. Everyone had changed, and she didn't always recognize her friends any more.

"How are you?" Alex asked abruptly, pulling Liz from her thoughts. The three of them were gathered in his room, supposedly to study. But little studying had gotten done so far, and it didn't look like any more would happen.

Liz gave Alex a confused look and put her papers down. "What do you mean?"

"With everything you learned," Alex said. "With your… your new _gifts_."

Liz closed her eyes. "Isabel came up to me today. Asked me how I was," she said quietly. "Did you… did you put her up to that?"

"No," Alex answered, sounding surprised. "Why would I?"

"I don't know. I just… I just thought…" Liz trailed off and wasn't sure quite what to say. Isabel's bitter rant still echoed in her head, and she'd had some time to think over what the other girl had said. Had Isabel been right? Had she been so eager to find answers to her own concerns that she had not bothered to think about the danger she had put Isabel in?

She and the hybrid Princess were hardly on speaking terms at the moment, and this latest incident had not helped. But Isabel had sought her out, had taken the time and made the effort to ask if she was alright. Because the revelation that Liz had somehow acquired alien powers _was_ significant.

And Liz – though she had no desire to admit this to Isabel, and maybe not even to Alex – _was_ afraid. How could she not be? This changed everything. She was still human… but she could do things ordinary humans couldn't.

"It's weird," Maria said after a moment. "I mean… you're practically Czechoslovakian."

Liz rolled her eyes. "I am still fully human," she answered with a bit more defensiveness in her voice than she had intended. Alex and Maria both raised their eyebrows at her, and she felt the beginnings of a blush. She had not meant to sound quite so afraid of being an alien, but…

The door swung open and Max appeared in the room.

"Oh. Uh. Sorry, Alex, I didn't realize you…" The hybrid king stopped abruptly as he caught sight of Liz. He held her gaze for a beat, then said, "Uh… right. I can come back."

"Is everything alright?" Alex asked worriedly. "Is it Isabel? Did something happen?"

The true fear in his voice caught Liz off-guard, and she looked at him with interest. She'd known for some time that Alex's feelings for Isabel ran much deeper than just a normal high school relationship, but she hadn't really stopped to consider just how much everything Isabel had gone through would have affected Alex.

And it was clear from the anxiety in his eyes and the fear that colored his tone that he was truly afraid for her.

Again, Liz had the strangest sensation that she had missed out on a lot in the past few months, and even her closest friends had changed.

"She's fine," Max said quickly, waving away Alex's concerns. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something else."

Alex let out a sigh of relief, then said, "Um… sure. What is it?"

"Brody Davis shut down the UFO Center. He's… he's leaving because Sydney…" He stopped, and for a moment he looked so broken and so lost that Liz could only just barely stop the instinct to reach out to him, to comfort him.

He sagged against the wall of the room, looking weary and far older than she remembered. He was worried about Michael, she knew. And everything that had happened with Sydney was weighing on him, and the war and Khivar and Isabel and…

"But he left some of his… uh… I don't really know what they are. He had all this technological stuff that he used to track alien activity. And he left some of it for me because… well, because he thinks I am trying to find aliens. But I thought… well, there are some guidebooks, and maybe if the two of us looked through it we could figure out how everything works and it could help us with Khivar. I don't know, it could be a long shot, but…"

"Of course I'll help," Alex said without any hesitation. "When do you want to look at it?"

"Well, I was going to suggest now," Max said, his eyes moving from Alex to Maria and Liz, "but since you're obviously busy… how about tomorrow? After school?"

"That sounds good," Alex said.

"If it is something that needs to be done right away, I think Maria and I would be okay giving up Alex for a little bit," Liz offered with a faint smile for Max.

He stared blankly at her, as though he had no idea how to respond to a smile. Then he nodded and said, "Thanks, but I don't think it is an emergency. We should be okay to wait until tomorrow, and I don't want to interrupt your… whatever you're doing. Hanging out."

"Right, okay."

"Thanks," Max said again, and then slipped from the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Wow," Maria said sarcastically once Max was gone, "that wasn't awkward at all."

"I'll be right back," Liz announced, and she scrambled towards the door, ignoring Maria's surprised look and Alex's shrewd stare. She didn't care what either of them thought at the moment, but she had to talk to Max. She had no idea what she would even say, but the discomfort that existed between the two of them was wearing on her, and she needed to do everything she could to clear the air.

And she kept thinking about his fears, about the terror he had felt at the idea of any of them ending up in the white room.

She caught up with Max as he was climbing into his car. He paused as she called his name, and gave her a look full of bewilderment and wariness. But he climbed out of the car and leaned against the hood as she came closer.

Liz found herself frantically searching for the right words, and when she couldn't figure out what to say, she asked lamely, "How is everything?"

"Uh… okay," Max answered. "You?"

"Good," Liz said. "It's good. A little… a little freaked out now that I apparently have alien gifts, but… you know. That's life, I guess. At least in Roswell."

Max nodded. "Isabel said she talked to you," he said. "She said that you said that you were okay."

"Yeah," Liz agreed.

"I talked to Tess about it," Max said after a moment of silence. "If you want to learn how to… how to use your gifts, I think she is probably the best one to help you. Because, you know, it's… it's a mental thing, what you can do now. But if you don't want to learn, that's fine, too."

"Do you think I should?" Liz asked, surprising herself by seeking his opinion before answering with her own.

Max looked equally surprised as he answered, "Only if you want."

"If it would be helpful," Liz murmured.

"It probably would," Max answered. "I mean… I don't know how useful, but I can't imagine that it would be a bad thing. And it could help us… you know, with the skins."

Liz grimaced slightly at the sudden thought that she might become some kind of supernatural interrogator, pulling secrets out of other people's minds.

"Okay. Well. Yeah, so I'll… I'll talk to Tess," Liz said.

"Right."

They were both quiet for a moment, and Max fiddled with the car keys in his hand. He glanced a couple times at the driver's seat, clearly debating whether or not to end the conversation and leave.

"I'm sorry," Liz said abruptly.

Max's eyebrows rose.

"I didn't… I was mad when I said what I said. And I was hurt and scared… terrified. I never meant to blame you for what happened to Valenti and Alex." Liz swallowed back her own reservations and pushed on, the words practically pouring from her now that she was finally giving herself permission to say them, "I saw it in your mind. In the flashes, when you were healing me. And I'm sorry, Max. I never… I didn't mean it and I shouldn't have said it, but I was just so… I didn't want to lose Alex. He's my best friend, and it just felt like… like there was this huge hole in my chest and he was dying and I… I'm sorry."

Max stared at her in silence.

"And I'm sorry about going to Las Cruces. I should have done it differently. I shouldn't have… or… well, no. I think I was right about that, about going there, about following the lead to save Alex. But I should have been more understanding about what you were afraid of. I wasn't thinking about the white room and I don't… I don't often spend a lot of time thinking about what Pierce did to Tess. And that's wrong, I know it is. Because I know that she doesn't have the luxury of forgetting and that you don't either because it could happen again. You could go back there, and I just… I don't want that. I _never_ wanted that."

"Why did you come back?" Max asked.

Liz was momentarily thrown by the complete change in topic, but then she answered, "Because if anything happened to the four of you, or to Maria and Alex, and I wasn't here… I thought I could walk away, Max, but I can't. I just… I just can't."

"No, you couldn't," Max agreed quietly, his voice filled with raw emotion. He scrubbed his hands over his face as though trying to rub away the mixture of anguish and regret Liz saw in his expression. And then he looked at her, and when he spoke, his voice shook, "And you were right about Alex."

Liz opened her mouth to respond, then snapped it shut when she realized she had no idea what to say.

"I didn't remember until… until Sydney. She died, and I hadn't been able to save her and if that had happened to Alex…" Tears formed in Max's eyes, and he blinked rapidly then brushed them away with one hand. "I didn't want it to be alien-related. I didn't want Jim to be another death that we… that happened because of us."

"It wasn't your fault that…"

"Yes," Max interrupted her firmly, "it was. That's the thing, Liz, it _was_ my fault. What happened to Jim and Alex wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for us. If we weren't here, if we didn't live in Roswell… Sydney would have died no matter what, I know that. But Jim didn't have to."

Liz wished there was something she could say that would make everything miraculously better, but she couldn't stop this entire situation from hurting them all, and she couldn't stop the war.

"You came back," Max said. "You couldn't walk away. And I did. I walked away from Alex."

"You were trying to protect Isabel, Michael, and Tess," Liz argued.

"Yes," Max whispered, "I was. And… and, Liz, it terrifies me. The FBI, the white room. Sometimes I think it scares me even more than Khivar and his skins. And I know we think about Khivar all the time, and I know we've been thinking about this war instead of the FBI for the past year, ever since the Special Unit was disbanded, but… But sometimes I think about it. And I just… I don't know if we can do this. I don't know if we can fight the skins and not expose ourselves."

He rubbed at his eyes again and looked away from her. She reached out tentatively and placed her fingers on his arm in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

"But if Alex had died, then what would it matter?" Max asked bitterly. "Is it a fair trade, sacrificing him to save myself?"

"We were both wrong about Alex," Liz offered. "You should have listened to me and I should have listened to you."

"Yes," Max said, his voice hollow. "And I'm sorry for making you feel like you weren't needed here. I'm sorry for making you feel like you couldn't help us. Because… because I do need you, Liz. I don't think I've ever _not_ needed you." He licked his lips, then added, "But I don't know how to go back."

"I don't, either," Liz admitted.

The past wasn't something that could be easily undone.

* * *

He knew something was wrong the moment Maria showed up at his door with an expression that was a mixture of determination and regret. And that feeling in the pit of his stomach only intensified when she asked politely if she could come in.

Maria didn't ask. Maria barged into his apartment without any invitation and just assumed that she belonged there. This was strange and out of character, and his first instinct was to ask if the world was ending.

"I just wanted to talk," Maria explained as Michael stared at her in apprehension.

"Right. Okay."

"See, at first I thought I was worried because I couldn't figure out if I was losing myself in this alien stuff and in my relationship with you," Maria said, and she said it so softly that Michael had to actually strain to catch the words.

"And then I got upset because we were arguing again and I missed the way it had been over the summer when we didn't argue and we spent so much time together. And then I got upset because you seemed to care so much about how Isabel was doing, which I now realize was ridiculous because Isabel was in actual danger so _of course_ you cared. And then… then I got mad because you wouldn't talk to me about Trevor."

Maria perched on the edge of the sofa and stared at him, her expression open and honest. And Michael couldn't help but wonder how this had all happened without him even noticing.

"But then… then I realized that this wasn't about me. It was about you," Maria said. "And I get it. You have a war to fight. You have a planet to save. You have people to protect and… and dealing with me is probably not one of your priorities at the moment."

"Maria…" Michael started, and then stopped, because he couldn't think of what to say.

"I still want to be friends," she said. "I still care about you."

Michael blinked. "You… you're breaking up with me."

"Yeah," Maria said with a heavy sigh. "You pulled away, Michael. You pulled away from me, and you started doing it a while ago. It's just that I think both of us were too busy with other things to really realize what it meant." She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "But I get it now. I get what it means. I get what it is you have to do, what you have to deal with. I want you to win this war. I want you to survive. And I don't… I don't want to get in the way."

* * *

Next Chapter: Preparations

Due: Sun 2/20


	27. Preparations

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Preparations

"This is… advanced," Alex commented, glancing around the small room. "That," he pointed at one of the flashing screens, "is clearly measuring something. Actually, it has a dose-response curve on the screen so it's measuring two things. But I'm not sure what. Where did Brody leave the notes?"

Max handed him a stack of papers. They didn't appear to be in any order and were covered in scribbles and illegible writing. Some paragraphs were typed, but there were also sketches of diagrams along the margins and notes at the top and bottom of each page.

Alex flipped through them quickly. Brody had clearly spent a lot of time and effort compiling this information, and from the looks of it, he had been also been responsible for inventing most of this technology. Or, rather, taking already existing technology and using it to suit his purposes.

"Does it mean anything to you?" Max asked eagerly.

"This is pretty intense," Alex murmured.

Liz leaned over his shoulder and glanced at the papers. "Wow," she agreed. "I don't even…" She pointed to an equation scrawled in the top left corner of the second page. "What is that?"

"Not sure," Alex answered. He looked up at Max. "I'm going to need some time to go through this, but I think I can make sense of some of it. Probably not all of it, though."

Max shrugged. "Whatever you can do will be fine."

Alex nodded, but still felt a little uneasy. Max was wrong, this wasn't a situation where it would be alright as long as he just tried his best. This technology could be useful for them, could help them with the war. He had no idea how, but it was the only asset that they had at the moment – besides the Granolith, and nobody seemed to have any idea what to do with that, even after translating the Destiny Book – and he needed to do everything possible to make sure they knew what they had at their disposal.

He didn't like thinking about it, but the future was terrifying, and every day that passed was a day closer to a battle that could cost the people he cared about their very lives. It had already almost cost his… and he'd nearly lost Isabel. More than once.

"I'm surprised Brody didn't stay around to tell you about everything," Liz said, glancing over at Max. "I mean, I'm surprised he left any of it behind, actually, but then to not leave detailed instructions, to not tell you about it himself… It's just… I'm surprised."

"I'm not," Max said flatly.

Alex groaned inwardly and rubbed his eyes with one hand. The tension in the room had been steadily rising and falling in some sort of cyclical pattern ever since they had arrived. He could tell that his best friend and the hybrid King had both made incredible progress in their relationship, but it hadn't been enough to undo all the hurt and pain from the past.

Liz or Max would say something, and then the other would reply in a hard tone, and then there would be this long silence, and then someone would rush to say something, to fill the emptiness, to ease the tension…

"I just meant that this was Brody's life. It's everything he worked for," Liz said, gesturing towards the two computers on the desk to their right.

Max sighed. "His life was about Sydney. It was always about Sydney," he answered quietly. "It's why he was looking for aliens, it's why…" He trailed off, and averted his gaze from Liz's frank stare.

Alex tilted his chin up and studied Max for a long moment.

"He gave up on everything because Sydney died," Max said finally.

"I'm sorry," Liz whispered.

Alex looked back at the notes, reading over them. He was getting tired of this. Of Max and Liz, of Michael and Maria. Liz and Maria were his best friends and he wanted them to be happy. He wanted it more than he wanted almost anything else in the world. And yet… and yet…

He had almost died. He'd been in a coma and he'd almost died. And Jim Valenti _had_ died. And the war was coming and they had to fight it together, or they would lose.

Something on the page caught his attention, and he read over a brief description and then looked at one of the equations. Brody's notes didn't make a whole lot of sense, but some of it was becoming clearer…

"I think that's measuring energy," he said, nodding to the same screen they had looked at earlier.

Max and Liz jumped apart, and Alex realized with a bit of surprise that they had been holding hands. Liz now had her arms folded over her chest and Max was holding his hands behind his back, and both of them had flushed a slight pink.

Alex smiled inwardly. That would be an interesting bit of information to share with Maria. Because although the abrasive blonde had just broken up with Michael and was devastated about it, she did still constantly talk to Alex about Liz and Max. And she would want to know this.

Of course, she might just use it as an excuse to call Max a jerk…

"What kind of energy," Liz asked.

"I'm not sure," Alex replied, forcing himself to think about the papers in front of him and not his friends' relationships. "But it is somehow distinguishing between different kinds of energies… see this reading?" And he tapped his finger against another stack of papers piled on the desk. "Look at the date. It corresponds to the… oh, what was that called?"

Max glanced at the date, his eyes going wide, "The Harvest."

"And look," Liz said, flipping through some more output, "isn't this the same date that you said you found the Granolith?"

"Yeah," Max agreed slowly. "We went into the cave… the four of us. We… we put the pentagon in it then… Isabel said it was like an ignition…"

"Uh… what?" Alex asked, unable to follow Max's train of thought.

"Agent Pierce had found this pentago-shaped device," Max explained. "He showed it to Tess when she was in the white room. We took it after we left the military base when we rescued her. It was part of the Granolith, it acted like an ignition. We attached it to the base of the Granolith and then it only needed a key to activate it. It must have sent some kind of signal when we did that, and Brody's machines picked up on it."

"Give me a couple hours," Alex said, "and I'll go through the rest of the stuff. Maybe I can figure out what everything else is. At the very least, I can look over those dates and get a better idea of what kind of energy this thing picks up on…"

* * *

"Just focus," Tess said, an edge to her voice, and Liz had to bite back the urge to scream in frustration. She'd been focusing for the better part of two hours, and had accomplished nothing except to give herself a throbbing migraine. Apparently she did not have anything close to control over her new gifts, and could not pull thoughts from Tess' mind on command.

Liz closed her eyes and massaged her temples with two fingers. The pain in her head was steadily increasing, and she had no idea how much longer she would be able to stand it. But she also didn't like the idea of giving up now, not when all she had had so far was failure.

There had been a couple moments of almost-success. She'd been able to form a connection with Tess, something that would have possibly led to her receiving a flash, but the connection had broken far too quickly. And, as Tess had pointed out, the blonde hybrid hadn't even been _trying_ to keep Liz out of her mind.

Which meant, if she did actually try, Liz probably stood no chance at all.

Tess held out her hand. "Come on. Deep breath. Try again," she ordered tersely.

Her patience was clearly wearing thin, although Liz thought idly that she hadn't had much patience to start with. Tess was either used to much faster results or she didn't really want to be here at all. Either way, it was clear to Liz that her lack of progress was annoying the blonde to no end.

She opened her eyes and took Tess' hand.

"Now. Physical contact is the easiest way to do this, although hopefully you'll get strong enough to get visions and premonitions without needing to be touching anything," Tess said. "So focus on my hand and…"

"What makes you think I'll ever be able to do this without touching something?" Liz asked sharply.

"Your dream," Tess answered simply. "You weren't touching anything of relevance then, and still you saw Max's reaction to Sydney's death. It might be only because of your connection with Max, but…" She paused, pulled her hand away from Liz, irritation crossing her features. "This isn't important right now anyway. Let's take this one step at a time, and the first step is forming the connection. So _focus_."

"You try pulling images from someone's mind when your head feels like it is going to explode," Liz muttered.

Tess raised an eyebrow. "What? Do you think learning how to control my mind-warp was easy? You're not the only one who had to deal with this, but at least you have people who actually know stuff and can help you out. I did it on my own because, trust me, Max, Isabel, and Michael were _no_ help then." Liz opened her mouth to argue, but Tess continued harshly, "Again, this _isn't_ the point. You need to stop arguing with me and focus."

Liz glared and grabbed Tess' hand. Closing her eyes, she tried to recall what it had felt like when she had pulled the memory from Courtney's mind. It certainly hadn't been something she had been planning on doing, but she remembered well enough the sensation of her mind pushing past the limits of her own body as Courtney's memories flooded into her head.

If she could just focus on that, if she could just repeat what had happened then…

Something warm ran down her arm and into her fingers, and she felt Tess' mind getting closer to hers. A connection was forming, and she focused on it, trying to build it, trying to…

It flickered and died, the connection lost, and the pounding in her head increased.

"It's your follow-through that is lacking," Tess said in a clinical tone, her voice clipped and unemotional. "You can start the connection, but then you don't put in the effort to keep it going."

"I'm _trying_," Liz said furiously.

"Clearly not hard enough," Tess answered simply. "You know, I really thought you would be better at this." She stepped away from Liz and crossed her arms over her chest. "It will get easier once you've gotten over this first hurtle. But you have to actually succeed at this before you can make anymore progress."

Liz closed her eyes and counted to ten. She didn't really want to start yelling at Tess, but she was so close to losing control of her temper. _Why_ had Max thought this would be a good idea?

"It requires effort," Tess said. "You have to _want_ this to happen. You can't be passive. There is nothing passive about what you're trying to do. You need to know what you want and go after it."

"I _am_ trying," Liz hissed.

"Try harder," Tess replied.

"It's not that simple," Liz protested angrily.

Tess threw her hands in the air in annoyance and responded in a biting tone, "_Of course_ it isn't that simple. But if you don't try, you're only going to end up making it harder. So get over all the things that are holding you back, get over your hang-ups, and _focus_."

"I don't have hang-ups," Liz snapped.

Tess rolled her eyes. "You're afraid of developing your gifts because you think it will somehow make you not human and that scares you," she said coolly. "As much as you pretend to be okay with this, you aren't. You don't want to lose yourself, you don't want to become _alien_."

"That's not true," Liz answered, even though it was true, even though any denial she made would be a complete lie. Everything Tess had just said was true, but how could she admit to that?

Tess ignored her comment, however, and continued, "And you're not wild about this particular gift, either. Invading someone's mind, stealing their thoughts, getting past their protections and inner barriers, taking their secrets… That's what the skins – what _Nicolas_ – could do. It's mind-rape, and you don't like it."

Liz swallowed uneasily. It was one thing to have premonitions like what had happened in her dream. It was something else entirely to go into someone's mind and take what they were trying to hide. What she'd done to Courtney… that _was_ mind-rape, and the idea of doing it again, but this time knowingly, willingly…

"But this is a war, Liz, and it's messy and it's complicated and it isn't black and white. And we all do things we don't want to do, or did you _forget_ the humans and skins that have died because of us? Did you forget the ones we've _actively_ killed?"

Liz blinked and took a step back, surprised by the venom in Tess' words and the anger in her eyes.

"This gift could help us. This gift could make a rather significant difference in our strategy. You can see people's secrets, Liz, and _I _can't even do that. And I can do some pretty invasive things to people's mind. So are you going to actually try, or are you going to stand there and give up while Khivar and his army plot our deaths?"

"I'm not giving up!" Liz snarled.

"Then why haven't you succeeded? Why can't you get into my mind? Why aren't you trying? Why aren't you putting in any effort? Why are you just standing here, wasting my time? Wasting _all_ of our time?"

"I am not a waste of time," Liz answered fiercely, her face flushed. She could feel the heat rising, could feel her own anger just below the surface. This wasn't easy for her, and she did have hesitations and reservations, but how dare Tess act as though she wasn't trying to help them, trying to protect them?

"Then prove it!" Tess snapped back, holding out her hand.

Without thinking, Liz grabbed Tess' hand, her fingers clamping down tightly.

"_I just don't get the point of this," Michael said._

_Tess glanced up from the book she was reading and shrugged. "We're seniors in high school, Michael. It's what we do. It's what normal people do. I think."_

"_Yes, because you know so much about normal," Isabel muttered under her breath._

_Tess sent her a frosty glare, but did not reply to the comment. Instead, she turned her gaze back to the book, although not before slanting an amused look at Alex, who was frowning thoughtfully as though actually trying to figure out how to explain the relevance of this particular event to Michael._

"_This is stupid," Michael grouched._

"_All you have to do it talk to the guidance counselor for ten minutes," Isabel protested. "It's not like the world is going to end. I think you can bear Mr. Loggers' company for that long."_

"_I still think he could be FBI," Michael retorted._

"_I still think you're an idiot," Tess said, tearing her eyes away from her book just long enough to give Michael a pointed smirk._

_Michael scowled._

"_We're seniors in high school, Michael," Isabel said in a tone of rapidly disappearing patience. "We have to apply to college, we have to figure out what we want to do with the rest of our lives. Mr. Loggers is going to help us with that."_

"_I know what I'm doing with the rest of my life," Michael replied, lowering his voice to make sure he couldn't be overheard by anyone else. "I'm going to fight a war. And I don't need help preparing for that. At least not from Mr. Loggers."_

"_We won't be fighting this war forever," Isabel said quietly._

"_She's right, you know," Alex agreed, nodding his head. "There will be a future after the war. We have to figure out what we want to do with it."_

"_The Royalists want us to return to Antar and rule the planet," Michael pointed out. "So, assuming we don't all die in the next few months…"_

"_We're not going to die," Isabel said shrilly._

"_Keep your voice down," Tess hissed._

"_We don't know how to rule a planet," Isabel said after a moment, her voice much softer. Her eyes darted around nervously, then she added, "We don't even know how to fight a war. I mean… really. Michael's practicing blowing up rocks, Max is working on his force-fields, but so what? We're going to need more than that. And how am I going to be any help, either? I don't think dream-walking the enemy is going to do much good."_

"_Wow, this conversation got really depressing really quickly," Tess murmured._

"_Well, it's not like I'm saying anything that isn't true," Isabel answered. "We spend all this time in school, learning things that aren't going to help us and…"_

"_You're the one who just said that we all had a future after the war," Michael argued._

_Before the conversation could continue, a figure approached. Michael and Isabel quickly lapsed into silence, and Tess's eyes lit up happily._

"_Chris."_

_Chris paused at the table and looked at them. "Got room for your dutiful boyfriend?" he asked with a grin._

_Tess moved over a bit, and he sat down next to her, pulling his lunch out of his backpack. He nodded somewhat politely to Michael and Alex, and said, "Guerin. Whitman."_

_Michael ignored him, but Alex said, "Hey, Chris."_

_Sensing the tension, Chris asked, "Did I interrupt something?"_

"_No," Tess replied before anyone else could answer. "We're just talking about the future. And the mandatory meetings we all have with the guidance counselor. And how pointless it all is."_

"_I think Mr. Loggers is supposed to help us figure out what we want to do with our lives," Chris said._

"_Yeah. We meet with him for ten or fifteen minutes and then we're supposed to know what we're going to spend the next several decades doing," Isabel said sarcastically._

"_Okay, seriously," Tess turned to her, eyes narrowed, "When did you become so bipolar? One minute you think this is a great idea and we should all be planning our futures and the next minute none of us have a future and the whole thing is a waste of time. Make up your mind already."_

"_Ignore her," Michael advised. "She's just having a bad day."_

"_When does Tess ever have a nice day?" Isabel replied with a shrug._

_Without pausing, Tess reached over and flicked two fingers against the water bottle Isabel was holding, causing the taller hybrid to drop it in surprise. Water splashed all over Isabel's clothes, drenching the front of her outfit. Isabel sputtered in indignation, but Michael and Alex both bit back laughs. Neither were quick enough, forever, and Isabel reached across the table and lights slapped both of them._

"_Now I'm having a better day," Tess said._

_Chris draped his arm over her shoulder. "See, this is what I like about you. You always know how to turn a frown upside-down."_

_Tess offered him a sweet smile. "You have to learn to look for the silver lining."_

Liz reeled back as the memory faded. It didn't take much to know it was from the past few months, a conversation at school that she had clearly missed. She had a faint wish that she could have been there, that she could have participated in the conversation. But maybe she'd really needed some time away from Roswell. Maybe it had been leaving Roswell that had reminded her just how much she was sure she belonged here.

She turned and looked at Tess.

Tess smiled. "Good," she said, a hint of pride in her voice. "Very good."

Liz blinked. "You did that on purpose," she said, realization slowly dawning. She felt a mixture of resentment and astonishment at how well Tess had played her. "You yelled at me, you insulted me… you were trying to get me mad. You were trying to get this to be personal, to make me want to prove you wrong."

"Yes," Tess said bluntly, not bothering to feign innocence. "Now, take all that anger and that determination and use it." She extended her hand. "Try again."

Liz glanced at the other girl's hand. "I don't like you very much."

"I can live with that." She smirked, blue eyes challenging. "So… are you going to try again or not?"

Liz stared at Tess for a long moment, then summoned all her strength and reached out for the blonde's hand.

* * *

"I talked to Kyle today," Tess said as she slid into the booth across from Isabel and glanced around the Crashdown with a curious gaze. She was a little surprised not to see Max, who had spent most of the past couple of days in his usual seat, staring at Liz. She wasn't sure what had happened between the two of them, and she didn't actually care enough to ask, but she knew that something had changed.

At least they weren't avoiding each other as much anymore.

And Max didn't look ready to destroy things the way he usually did whenever her name was mentioned.

Isabel looked up from the milkshake she was drinking. "Uh… okay," she said, clearly having no idea why Tess was telling her this. "How is he?"

Tess shrugged. "Okay," she answered, even though that wasn't true. Even though it hadn't been true for a while. But he was at least holding himself together, and that was what mattered to her.

"That's good," Isabel said. She hesitated, then asked, "Is there a particular reason you are telling me this?"

"He asked a bit about the war," Tess answered. "I'd just come back from helping Liz with her powers and I'd been thinking about… about what Liz can do and how clearly uncomfortable she is with it."

"Well… it is pretty close to what Nicolas could do," Isabel said softly, her voice low enough to avoid being heard by any of the other patrons of the diner. "Mind-rape."

"Yes," Tess agreed. "And somehow it seems so much worse than what I do. Except, of course, that it isn't. Because she can only read minds and I can actually control them." It was a sharp distinction, and one that they didn't think about much. Leaning about Nicolas' powers had unnerved them all last year, and somehow his gift had seemed so horrible. But in reality, it _wasn't_ worse than hers. Because she could make people do things against their will, forget things they'd rather remember…

Not to mention the fact that hers was so incredibly dangerous.

After all, her powers had nearly killed Kyle. And mind control had also nearly killed Alex, even if it was someone else doing it.

"I'm not wild about other people controlling my mind," Isabel agreed softly, "but I also don't like the idea of them accessing all my secrets."

Tess nodded. "It's funny, though…" She thought about Kyle for a moment, about the conversation she'd just had. It was so rare for him to ask about her alien half, so rare for him to want to know about this war. But he had asked questions and actually initiated the conversation. It was clear that he had been just as worried about her as she was about him.

"What's funny?" Isabel asked.

"Not so much funny as just… ironic," Tess explained. "Kyle wanted to know if we were able to prepare well, and so I told him, truthfully, that we were all a little scared. I mentioned how hesitant you were to use your powers and you know what he said?"

Isabel lifted an eyebrow. "That I'm a coward? Because I would argue that my fear doesn't so much make me a coward as it makes me… realistic."

Tess ignored Isabel's answer and pressed on, "He reminded me about how afraid I had been to mind-warp after the mind-warp had nearly killed him in that pocket realm. How absolutely terrified I had been at the idea that of having to mind-warp someone else, of running the risk of killing them… And you kept arguing with me, kept telling me that I needed to do it. Because you wanted me to mind-warp your parents into forgetting the whole incident with the crystal parasites."

"I remember," Isabel murmured.

"And do you remember what you said to Kyle when he asked you why you were so determined that I start using my powers again?"

Isabel shook her head.

"You told him that if someone got hurt…if someone died… because I had been too afraid to fight back, I would never forgive myself," Tess said. She gazed at Isabel, her expression pointed. "And you were probably right about that."

Isabel said nothing. She obviously understood the point that Tess was making – that she needed to get over her fear of becoming Vilandra and fight back – but she just as obviously did not want to talk about it anymore. And Tess didn't push the subject. She'd said what she wanted to say, and that was all that mattered. Isabel would have to figure out the rest on her own.

"Do you remember how determined I used to be about calling the gifts and not powers?" Isabel asked after a moment of silence.

Tess smirked. "Yes, I remember."

"Now I call them powers all the time," Isabel mused. "Back then, I thought if we called them gifts we would better remember not to abuse them. But now…" She shook her head. "I don't think of them as gifts anymore. Sometimes I think they are really curses."

"It isn't semantics that is going to stop us from abusing them," Tess answered with a careless shrug. "It's morals. It's seeing what Courtney and Nicolas and Khivar and Rath all did with their… gifts and knowing that we don't want to do the same."

"I'm scared," Isabel whispered. "Of this. Of all of it. I'm so scared…"

Tess swallowed uneasily and replied, "Me, too."

* * *

Next Chapter: Of Family

Due: Wed 3/2


	28. Of Family

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Of Family

The letter was carefully tucked in the back of the kitchen drawer, hidden among other odds and ends. He pulled it out, smoothing out the creases and staring at the words that filled the page. Over the summer, he had thought about the letter frequently, although he had never taken it out to read it. Not since first receiving it, not since realizing just how incredibly interfering Maria could be.

He'd loved her for it then, even if it drove him crazy at other times.

He swallowed back the lump in his throat and read the words quickly, even though he knew exactly what they said, even though he didn't need to read them to remember.

_Dear Michael,_

_I feel a little odd writing to you, since I don't know if you really even want to hear from me. But Meredith told me that your friend Maria had called her and said you were distressed because a friend of yours had died, and maybe you would like to hear from me. I don't really know what to say, I've never been good at this sort of thing. But you told me that you were loyal, and I figured I should try to be the same._

_I hope you are doing well, besides your friend's death. Things here are going okay. Meredith comes to see me some days. Maybe not as often as I would like, but more than she used to. Bobby doesn't live at the house anymore. I don't know what happened, Meredith doesn't like talking about it. I know it upsets her. But I can't say I miss him._

_It's nice right now. A blue sky and everything. Meredith has promised to take me to the beach in California in the summer if my doctor says it's okay. I miss the ocean. My Dad used to take me there all the time._

_I don't really know what else to say. I'm really not good with this sort of thing. I am sorry to hear about your friend. I wish I could help somehow, but I know when my Dad died there wasn't a whole lot people could say that would cheer me up. Although Bobby always said that was because I was a lunatic. But things get better after a while. They did for me, anyway._

_Things really are better now. I don't know how much of that you are responsible for, but I know a lot of it changed around the time you came to visit. It feels now like… I don't know. Like there's something to hope for. You know? Anyway, I am sure I am rambling. I try not to do it, but I can't always get the words out right._

_Come see me any time you're in the neighborhood._

_Best wishes,_

_Laurie_

Michael folded the letter again and replaced it in the drawer. Laurie's words of thanks, her testament that his visit to Meredith had made her life so much better, had been one of the few things that helped him deal with the grief of Trevor's death. As Maria had pointed out at the time, he might have lost one sibling, but he still had family left. And he still had family that he could help – that he _had_ helped – that didn't suffer because of their connection to him.

Trevor had finally declared his loyalty to Michael, had refused to allow Nicolas to harm his brother, and had died because of it. And Laurie's words had helped with the grief and the guilt…

But could they help with the fury? With the hatred? With his feeling of betrayal? He knew Courtney wasn't on their side, had known that since the revelations at the end of the last school year, but still… he had not expected this.

He glanced around for a moment, then opened another drawer and pulled out a pad of paper. He grabbed a pencil and settled himself into the kitchen table. For a few minutes he just sat there, tapping his pencil against the paper and trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to say.

Then he leaned forward and started writing.

* * *

When the pod chamber opened before his outstretched hand, he was expecting that the cave would offer him a place of solitude to think over everything and try to figure out how his life had spiraled so much out of control so quickly and without him even really noticing. But Max and Isabel were both there, and they, too, seemed to be surprised at his presence.

"Training?" Michael asked.

Max nodded wearily. "Yeah." He glanced down at the fragments of rocks littering the ground with a frustrated expression on his face. An expression that Michael knew all too well, because he had worn it several times in the past. Smashing rocks just didn't feel like enough. Could their basic telekinesis actually do any harm against an army of skins?

Isabel rubbed her eyes with one hand. She was leaning against the wall near the pods, and but her gaze was focused on the entryway to the part of the pod chamber that housed the Granolith. Michael glanced in that direction also, and wondered silently what Isabel was thinking.

He thought back to the moment they had learned of their destiny. Max, he knew, had struggled under the weight of the responsibility placed on his shoulders, and Isabel had been horrified to learn that they had been _created_ and not _born_. And Michael's emotions had been a mix of confusion and bewilderment and fear and frustration, but underneath all of that was the feeling of disappointment because it had been Max and Isabel's mother they had seen.

Once again, it had been Max and Isabel that had the family.

"Tess called me last night," Max said abruptly, interrupting Michael's thoughts. "She wanted to know if Ahab had any idea when the skins would attack."

Michael raised his eyebrows. "If we knew that, we wouldn't be this worried," he said dryly. They'd still be worried, of course, but the not knowing was what had really gotten under his skin lately. "Does she think Ahab is going to have specific dates?"

Isabel shrugged. "Thanksgiving is next week," she murmured.

Michael blinked, uncomprehendingly. "What, she doesn't want to fight on Thanksgiving?"

"You're such an idiot," Isabel muttered, rolling her eyes at Michael.

Michael gave Max a bewildered look, and Max elaborated, "She's trying to figure out if it is safe to have Kyle come home for Thanksgiving."

"Ah."

"But Ahab doesn't have those kind of details. We might get attacked next week, we might get attacked next month…" Max slumped against the wall, looking far wearier than Michael had seen him in a long time. "At least she's thinking about it, though." He glanced at Isabel.

Isabel frowned. "I know, I know. I just… I don't know what to tell them, Max."

"And, once again, I have no idea what you're talking about," Michael grumbled.

"Our parents are still refusing to leave town," Isabel said. "And I get why they feel that way, I really do." She hesitated, then murmured, "I even… it's nice, you know. Knowing that they're not going to leave us, no matter what. But it's just that with the Sheriff…"

Michael narrowed his eyes. Any statement that even slightly reminded him of Courtney was getting under his skin now, and without thinking, he slammed his fist into the nearest wall.

All that succeeded in doing was making his hand hurt.

Isabel flinched in surprise, but didn't make any comment on Michael's show of rage. Instead, she gave him an apologetic look – apparently understanding instantly why he was upset – and continued, "I think we need to face the real possibility that Khivar or one of the skins will go after them."

"Valenti was more involved in this war," Michael countered logically. "He's fought with us on a few different occasions, and he… he actually knew about all of us."

"And now our parents know, too," Isabel answered. "Besides, do you really think Khivar is going to spare them just because they haven't joined the war?"

"No," Michael muttered, agreeing with her pointed comment.

"I'll talk to them again," Max said, running a hand through his hair. "Probably won't do any good, though. They don't understand."

"Then _make_ them understand," Michael suggested, his voice hard. Max and Isabel both stared at him, nonplussed, and he said, "Keep talking to them until they see your point of view. Keep talking until they understand. Keep talking until they agree. You know better than they do, at least about this. So make sure they get that."

Growing up, he'd always been the one to say that attachments were dangerous, that it would make it harder for them in the long run. But some part of him had still felt bitter that Max and Isabel had the perfect family, and even Tess had something better than just Hank. And when they were much younger, Isabel had accused him, more than once, of only saying the things he said because he was jealous.

But looking back, he couldn't help but think he'd been right all along. Not having attachments did make it easier to fight this war.

It just made it harder to get through the rest of the his life.

"Look, you know as well as I do that having them here will just distract you," Michael said shortly. "So if you can't get them to leave for their own safety, make them leave for yours. They'll do that… won't they?"

He felt bad saying those words. They were true, of course, and they couldn't be avoided. But it also meant that Max and Isabel would be sending away their family. They would be alone. Well, they would have each other and the rest of the group, but they would no longer have the support of their parents.

But what else could they do?

"Maybe," Max agreed. Then he said seriously, "But the same could be said for Alex and Maria. Do you think either of them will leave if we ask them to?"

"You're not including Liz in that?" Isabel demanded a bit snidely.

Max shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "She has powers. She could be useful. She can defend herself."

"She can look inside people's heads," Isabel drawled, "and that isn't enough for her to be able to defend herself. And Alex can be helpful, too, or did you forget that he's the only one who understands any of the computer stuff Brody left? If you're going to send away Alex, you should send Liz away, too."

"I don't want…" Max started, and then stopped. "This isn't about who is more or less able to fight the war. I'm just saying that Alex and Maria," he looked at Isabel, "_and Liz_ aren't going to just leave us to fight this war on our own, even if we ask them to. So it's hard to know if our parents will."

Michael thought painfully of Maria. She might leave them to fight the war, actually. If they asked, if they stressed that she couldn't help them… After all, she'd walked away from him in order to let him focus on the upcoming battles. Actually, she'd done that twice; once at the end of sophomore year after Max had killed Pierce and then fallen apart, and now.

He'd seen it coming them, known before she said the words what she was going to do. And he'd understood it, even appreciated the fact that she could see where his priorities were. And at the time, his priorities had been on holding the group together until Max and Tess could get over their respective traumas of killing a man and being imprisoned in the white room. He hadn't really had any other choice.

But this time… he hadn't seen it coming this time. But she'd left him anyway.

And Max was wrong about Liz, too. She had left, had gone away to boarding school, because she didn't think she could be of any help. And for a lot of other reasons, also, he assumed, but her inability to fight in this war had certainly been a factor.

Of course, Liz had come back. And Maria would probably still try to help them as much as she could. And Alex clearly wasn't stepping down from this fight, not after what Courtney had done to him.

But Isabel was still glaring in annoyance at Max, and Michael shook his head in bemusement. It was clear that neither of them were talking about the inherent importance of alien powers anymore. Both were simply stating – in a rather odd and heated manner – that they didn't want to have to fight this war without the person they loved. Which was a sharp contrast to attitudes they'd had during the past two years, when neither had wanted Alex or Liz involved in the war for fear that they would come to harm.

That fear was still there. But so was the fear of having to do this, having to face Khivar, alone.

"Sometimes I think back, and I can't even remember how we got to this point," Max said quietly. "I mean… it seems like every day the only things I think about are fighting the war and keeping everyone else safe. I know there was a time when I thought about other things, but I don't remember what that was like."

"You still think about Parker," Michael offered with a wry grin. "_That_ hasn't changed."

Max rolled his eyes, but didn't argue with the statement. There would be no point, as it was blatantly obvious to everyone that Michael was right. He did think about Liz, he thought about her all the time. He'd thought about her when they weren't speaking and he'd thought about her when she was gone, and he'd thought about her when she came back and everything was suddenly awkward.

"You've been talking to her a bit more," Isabel said suddenly, quietly. "Alex said…" she trailed off and gave Max a searching look. "Alex said the two of you were holding hands the other day."

Max flushed. "There's nothing wrong with holding hands."

"So things are getting better?" Isabel pressed, looking a bit unsure, and Michael had a fleeting feeling of unease. He knew that things hadn't really gotten better between Isabel and Liz, and wondered what this would mean for them all. Would the tension that had existed between Max and Liz shift to Isabel and Liz instead?

"I don't know," Max admitted. "I mean, we can talk again. And I love her, and I know she loves me. But… It's just… it's hard." He massaged his temples. "I don't even remember how we got here. Liz and I… how did this happen?"

"Valenti died, Alex ended up in a coma, and our lives fell apart," Isabel said dryly. "And you guys had two very different points of view on how to deal with it."

"Yeah…" Max sat down, leaning against the wall of the pod chamber, and Isabel slowly followed suit. "I just wish we could undo this all. I wish we could go back to the beginning and change it."

"We can't," Michael said bluntly. Wishes were pointless.

He had lots of wishes. He had current ones, and he had previous ones. He had wished for a real family growing up, and he'd wished for something better than Roswell. Something more important than their mundane lives, something exciting, something filled with adventure and meaning.

And now he wished for everything to be easy again, for all of this never to have happened.

His wishes never came true.

"I hate this," Max growled, frustrated. "I wasn't meant to fight a war. It's just wrong. It's all wrong."

"Yeah," Michael agreed.

It _was_ all wrong.

* * *

The sound of knocking on her window caught Maria by surprise, and she hurried over to pull back the curtain. She wondered who it could be. Liz and Alex wouldn't bother coming through the window, but would instead use the front door. And she doubted that Max, Isabel, or Tess would be seeking her out at all right now. And Michael had barely spoken to her since they had broken up…

So she had not expected to find him waiting for her on the other side of the glass.

"Michael, what are you doing here?" she demanded as she pulled open the window.

"I was willing to hurt Isabel," Michael said.

"I… what?"

He climbed in through the window without being invited, and it didn't even occur to her to kick him out. His statement made no sense, and she was stuck on that, on trying to figure out what he meant. Because she had seen the way he acted around Isabel, and sometimes he could be indifferent and sometimes he could be unsympathetic, but he had never seemed willing to actually hurt her.

Michael started pacing, his footsteps loud and angry. She wanted to reach out to him but she didn't. She had no idea what to do, no idea what to say.

"In her dream," Michael explained finally. "Khivar… he had so much power. And he somehow… transported… himself and Isabel away from us. And the Royalists said that Tess could take us to Isabel, but that it would probably hurt Isabel and I… I was okay with that."

Maria leaned against the edge of her bed and watched him warily. She wasn't afraid of him, but his emotions were clearly not completely under control, and that set her on edge.

"I was… I felt like Rath. Like a General, like a leader. I assessed the situation and decided that it was acceptable to cause Isabel harm. As long as it wasn't permanent… I didn't even _look_ for another way. Do you understand? Do you know what it's like? I… I didn't even… That person I became for that moment… that commander… It's not me. It isn't. But I don't know how to stop it from becoming me. I don't know how to…"

He stopped abruptly, his words cutting off as he lifted his hands to his head. He pressed his fingers against his temples, lines of stress appearing on his forehead.

"You're not that person, Michael," Maria said.

"You don't know that," Michael answered. "You can't promise me that. You just _can't_. And I… I love you."

"You what?" Maria demanded. She had not expected the conversation to turn that way. But she hadn't expected Michael to show up at all, so she had little reason to believe she had any idea what this conversation was going to be like.

"I wanted to kill Courtney," Michael said venomously. "When I saw the memory Liz had, I just… I don't think I have ever hated anyone as much as I hated her in that moment. And after what she did to Valenti and to Alex, I didn't think it would be possible to dislike her more, but… but I _did_. And I think if she showed up here I might kill her with my own bare hands."

"Yeah. Can we go back to the part where you love me?" Maria asked.

"I keep thinking things will make sense again," Michael said, ignoring her comment. "I kept hoping… after Isabel got better, after we kicked Khivar out of her dreams, after we figured out why Liz was getting premonitions… But the answers don't solve anything. Tess is afraid to mind-warp, Isabel is afraid to dream-walk, and I keep thinking about Rath and wondering if I'm going to end up like him."

"You won't," Maria said again, and she wasn't sure which Rath they were talking about – the dupe or the General from Antar. But it didn't really matter either way because Michael's fear was still the same.

"I'm blowing up rocks. I'm freezing fragments of stone. Like it matters. Like it's somehow enough to stop Khivar. We've seen how powerful he is, and how powerful Courtney is, and… and he's got an _army_. I know we have the Royalists, but what if it isn't enough?"

"It will be enough," Maria said, and wished fervently that she could make that promise come true. But she couldn't, and as much as she didn't want to face the very real possibility that Michael could die, that they could lose…

"And this is all just the tip of the iceberg," Michael said. "I keep thinking about that. I've been trying to prepare myself for the war, but I have no idea what to do. I'm _cracking rocks_. And I get so pissed off at Max for not leading, for not making the right choices, for not doing the right thing… but he doesn't have the answers either. None of us do. We're all in the dark, and all I can think about is what if I'm not strong enough? What if we _lose_?" He looked at Maria, and she saw the real anguish in his eyes as he said quietly, "What if you die?"

"Is this about me?" Maria asked. "Because I don't think…"

"Let me say this," Michael interrupted quickly, "because if I don't say it now, I don't know if I can get it all out later. I don't know if I can… if there will be time or… I just need you to understand."

"Okay," Maria whispered.

"There's a lot about you," Michael said. "There's so much… but I think what always meant the most to me is that you're open. I can look into your eyes and I can see you. I can see what you're thinking., what you're feeling Even when we're arguing, even when we're fighting, even when we're not speaking… I can look into your eyes and I can see how much I mean to you and I can see how much I drive you insane. I can see you."

He drew a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair, and Maria held her breath, unsure what he was going to say next but knowing that she wanted – _needed_ – to hear it.

"And then all of a sudden you were breaking up with me and I realized that I'd lost you somehow. I didn't see it coming, I didn't know… I looked at you, and I couldn't see you anymore."

Michael sagged against the wall, the energy and the anger leaving him. His eyes were fixed on her, and they were fearful and haunted and more open and honest than she had seen in a very long time.

"I didn't tell you about what happened in Isabel's dream because I was… I was embarrassed or… or ashamed of it. But that was stupid and I should have… because sometimes I think you are the only thing that keeps me from losing control over everything. And I don't want to… I don't want to lose control."

"It's not always a bad thing to lose control," Maria offered gently. "And… and it's not a bad thing to be scared. I'm scared, too."

"I love you," Michael said again. "And when I think about it, when I really think about it, when scares me most is the thought of you dying. I can't… I can't let that happen."

"It won't," Maria promised.

"When I think of Courtney, of how much I hate her… when I think of Trevor and that maybe things could have been different and I could have had a family… I forget. I forget that I have a family. And it isn't the same and it doesn't make his death hurt any less, but I've got Max and Isabel and Tess. And Laurie."

"And Laurie," Maria agreed, faintly surprised at the admission of the girl they had helped last year, the girl whose life Michael had so drastically changed.

"Because of you. Because of everything you did with me… for me…" He shook his head, looked away from her. "I forget and I wonder if I'll lose control and I don't want that to happen. And I love you. I love you so much."

Maria let out a breath and answered, "I love you, too."

"Maria… I don't want to break up, I don't want to fight this war without you. You're right, you're not just another one of my priorities. You _are_ my priority. Your safety, your life… Finding Max and Isabel in the desert, finding Tess when she moved to Roswell… I always count those as among the best things that ever happened to me. But you… you are, too. Before I met you, I could have left Roswell at any minute. I could have dropped everything and run if I had to. I never really thought of Roswell as home. And then I met you. And everything changed."

He crossed to her side quickly, taking both of her hands in his and giving her a crooked half-smile. She couldn't find the right words to answer what he had said, couldn't think of any way to respond. Not that it would have mattered, because she didn't think she could speak past the lump in her throat.

"I love you," he said again. "You… you are my home."

Maria dropped his hands and pushed herself from her bed, raising herself onto her toes and kissing him. Her hands went to his waist, and she felt his own hands slide down her arms as she deepened the kiss. And she felt the warmth and the electricity and the chemistry that passed between them as he kissed her back.

Then she curled her fingers into his shirt and pulled him towards her bed.

"What are you doing?" Michael asked, breaking the kiss and pulling back as the two of them stumbled onto her mattress.

She pressed her lips against his again. "Losing control."

* * *

Next Chapter: A Moment of Peace

Due: Wed 3/9


	29. A Moment of Peace

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: I've had a few questions about Liz's powers, so I figured I should address the issue here. She has premonitions like she did on the show, but she also has the ability to pull things out of people's minds. Essentially, she can mind-rape, similar to what Nicolas could do. As for how they are related… they're not really, I guess, except that they are both mental powers similar to having visions. They are about as related as Max's ability to heal and to create a force-field shield.

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Nine: A Moment of Peace

Isabel looked around carefully, scrutinizing the dining room. The table cloth was a new one her mother had bought the previous weekend. It was a rustic brown with red embroidered leaves along the edges, and it contrasted rather beautifully with the cream-colored china that they used for special occasions. The table was covered in dishes of potatoes, squash, corn, bread rolls, and a silver platter of turkey with a matching gravy boat. The centerpiece was a vase of dark red and orange flowers and the occasional bright green shoot of long grass.

Everything looked perfect.

It made her want to burst into tears.

"Mom went all out, didn't she?"

Isabel started, and turned at the sound of Max's voice. She hadn't heard him approach, but he was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his arms folded across his chest, his gaze fixed on the table.

"Yeah," Isabel agreed with a sigh. "She really did."

Max didn't say anything else, and Isabel knew that he was likely thinking the same thing she was. This could very well be their last Thanksgiving, and though that thought was something that had bothered the four of them for a while now, Isabel had been unaware of the fact that it must have occurred to her mother, too.

Thanksgiving was always impressive in their house, but this was more than that. Their mother had apparently cooked for the four days leading up to this dinner.

"I didn't want them to be worrying about that," Max whispered finally. "I didn't want…"

"They know that we're in danger," Isabel answered. "They know a war is coming. They know the risks, they know that we could die, and that…"

"And that even if we don't die, we might still have to leave?" Max finished.

Isabel nodded glumly. It was something else they had not spoken about with their parents, but there was the very real possibility that they would have to return to Antar when this was all over. And despite their best efforts to avoid thinking of that particular topic, their parents had apparently figured it out.

"She wants a perfect Thanksgiving," Isabel said. "We should give it to her. No being moody, no being preoccupied with the war or the skins or… or Khivar…"

Max nodded in agreement. "I think we can manage that."

* * *

Diane supposed that all parents believed they had wonderful children. Or, at least, most parents. After all, a mother's perspective on her child was never objective, even if the child was not biologically hers.

Even if the child was not biologically fully human.

But halfway through the soup course, she decided that her children were more than wonderful. They were practically perfect.

She had spent the better part of the previous week worried about Thanksgiving. She was far more aware of what was happening all around her than Max or Isabel wanted to believe, and she understood just how close this battle was. These enemies – the skins, she knew they were called, although she still wasn't entirely sure why – could attack at any moment. The end of the war was coming, and it was coming soon.

And she had no idea what it would bring. She had never really understood what it felt like for mother's of soldiers to know that their sons were off fighting wars to protect the United States. That their sons were willing to die to protect people they didn't even know. She had never been able to imagine that kind of constant pride and fear.

But she understood it now. The past few months had taught her that.

And just like the mothers of those soldiers, there was nothing she could do to protect her children. They slept under her roof and ate her food and smiled at her in the morning as they rushed off to school, and it would have been so easy to forget that they were more than just normal teenagers.

But they were so much more than that.

Max had been moody for a long time. And some of it was the war and some of it was Liz, and Diane had been able to do absolutely nothing about either of those. And Isabel had been so afraid for such a long time, and these fears were no longer nightmares that Diane could soothe away with a few comforting words.

So she had been worried about Thanksgiving. It could very well be their last. And she didn't know which scared her more – the possibility of her children dying, or of them living and then leaving her behind, travelling to a planet far beyond even her imagination. Either way, she would never see them again.

And if she was to only have a few last holidays with them – this Thanksgiving, and maybe Christmas as well – she wanted the memories to be perfect. But with the constant gloom that had hung over all of them for so long, she had expected today to be glum and depressing.

So it was with more than a little bit of surprise that she witnessed both her children make every effort to smile and be cheerful during the dinner.

At first, she didn't understand it. When Isabel told her that the gravy was amazing, she blinked in bewilderment and stumbled over her words as she thanked her daughter for the compliment. When Max said he liked the new table cloth, she and Philip exchanged surprised looks.

And then she caught sight of the quick glance that passed in between her children, and she realized that they were doing this for her. They were smiling through their fears and forcing a lightness and happiness that had been absent from their home for a long time. They were going out of their way to make Thanksgiving perfect.

She had remarkable children.

"The turkey is amazing," Isabel said.

"Thank you," Diane answered. "It is a new recipe. I decided it would be much better than the normal one I usually make. You always complained that it was dry and overcooked."

"This one is better," Max agreed. "But maybe it is the quality of the turkey that makes it better. Maybe it is an exceptional turkey."

"Well, it had better be," Philip said with a laugh. "I had to fight off to other people at the supermarket to get it. Everyone goes crazy on Thanksgiving."

"I'm impressed, Dad," Max remarked. "Didn't think you would do something like fight over a turkey."

"You mother wanted the best turkey there," Philip answered with a shrug and a slight grin. "I couldn't disappoint her." Then his expression changed and he added, "I met Tess there. She was after turkey, too."

"Kyle's in town for Thanksgiving," Isabel explained. "I'm sure she wanted the best as well."

Diane pushed the mashed potato dish back and forth on her plate. "That must be very nice for the two of them. Kyle hasn't been back since the summer, has he?"

"No," Max answered. "I haven't spoken to him since he left, but Tess says he is enjoying the program."

There was something off about Max's voice, and the way Isabel's eyes widened at those words was enough of a give away. Tess might have passed along that message, but neither Isabel nor Max believed it. Which wasn't a surprise, given the details of Jim's death.

It wasn't the time to dwell on that, though, so Diane changed the subject. "I'm sorry Michael couldn't join us for Thanksgiving," she said.

"I think he's happier at Maria's," Max replied with a knowing smirk.

"Indeed," Philip agreed.

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, then Isabel asked, "Are we going go around and say the things we are thankful for?"

Diane's eyebrow rose. "You usually try to avoid that tradition," she said pointedly. Dinner always ended with the same tradition, a requirement that they all say the things they were thankful for. In the beginning, Max and Isabel had participated eagerly in that ritual, but as they got older, they both tended to find it ridiculous. She supposed all teenagers at some point lost interest in their parents' sentimental ideas, and her children were no exception to the rule.

Isabel chewed her lip. "Right. Well, I guess my opinions changed."

"I still don't like it," Max offered.

Isabel rolled her eyes good-naturedly at him.

"What?" Max defended himself from his sister's glare. "I'm just being honest."

"You don't have anything to be thankful for?" Isabel demanded.

"Of course I do. I just don't like mush," Max replied.

"This coming from the guy who spent years staring with pathetically lovesick eyes at Liz," Isabel snapped.

"Pathetic?" Max retorted with mock hurt.

"Well, _I_ am thankful for this wonderful turkey," Philip cut into the argument, giving Diane an amused look at their children's bickering. "And for Thanksgiving itself. It's a great holiday, you know. A chance to slow down and realize all the wonderful things you have in your life. Of course, all the stories about the pilgrims and Native Americans working together that first winter are a bit exaggerated and don't take into consideration the epidemics and warfare, but the myth is a good one. Even if it isn't based in fact Cooperation should be emphasized as much as possible. And it certainly isn't nowadays."

"I'm thankful for any holiday that gives us days off of school," Max said.

"And shopping. The sales tomorrow are going to be _amazing_," Isabel added.

"It is good to see you have the proper perspective," Philip said dryly.

"Dad, you don't understand," Isabel protested. "I saw these absolutely incredible boots. Black, knee-high, a bit of faux fur around the top. I know it's a little too warm for Roswell winters, but you never know when you're going to need something like that in the future. I won't be in Roswell forever, and I've applied to schools in places with rather cold winters. I'm going to need an entirely new wardrobe."

"And Dad is going to need an entirely new bank account," Max remarked with a smirk.

"Trust me, when you see these boots, you will understand that it is totally worth it," Isabel retorted. "So that is what I'm thankful for. New boots."

"But you don't _have_ the boots yet," Max protested.

"But I will," Isabel said confidently, turning to her father with a winning smile. "Right?"

"We'll talk about this after dinner," Philip answered.

"What are you thankful for, Max?" Diane questioned, deciding now would be an appropriate time to move the conversation away from her daughter's clothing habits.

Max hesitated, then said quietly, "I'm thankful for family. I'm thankful that you were the ones who found us. I don't think… I haven't said that lately, and I haven't said that enough, but… but that's what I'm thankful for. No matter what happens, I'm thankful that you are my parents."

There was an absolute silence in the room.

Isabel arched an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't like mush."

Max crumpled up his napkin and threw it at her.

* * *

"Do you need any help Ms. DeLuca?" Michael asked as he leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen. "I can carve the turkey if you need.

Amy straightened, holding the tray of turkey in her hands. "Maria and I have done Thanksgiving without men for a very long time, Michael," she chided lightly. "We aren't quite damsels in distress."

"I wasn't suggesting that," Michael said quickly, holding his hands up in a sign of defense. "Believe me, Ms. DeLuca, I will never suggest that either of you are damsels in distress. I just want to help in any way I can."

Amy glanced past Michael to the dining room where Maria was humming as she set the table. Actually humming. It had been a long time since she had seen Maria so happy.

"I think you've helped enough already," Amy answered with a soft smile.

Jim had once told her that Michael was a good person, that underneath his rough exterior and cautious persona was a boy who cared so much for his family and his friends. And she had finally started to see that last year, particularly around the time of Jim's death. She had sensed the change in her daughter these past few weeks, but it was also clear that whatever argument had driven the two teenagers apart, it was finally over.

She wasn't blind; she saw the way her daughter looked at Michael and the way Michael looked at her daughter.

"Are you sure there is nothing I can do?" Michael pressed, looking uncomfortable at Amy's suddenly perceptive gaze. He couldn't quite meet her eyes, and when he did, there was a hint of apprehension.

She grinned inwardly. It was good to know that she could still inspire fear in her daughter's boyfriend.

"We're just happy you decided to join us," Amy replied. "Maria said you were invited to Diane and Philip's house as well."

"Yeah, they invite me every year," Michael replied. "But… I'm glad I'm here."

Amy turned and set the turkey on the counter. The kitchen was filled with the smell of potatoes and pumpkin, all ready to be served. And she was getting hungry.

"I invited Kyle and Tess, you know," Amy said. "Tess declined, but she was so polite about it. I think I caught her off-guard. I know she wanted to spend time with Kyle, but still… I don't like the idea of the two of them being alone on Thanksgiving."

She glanced at Michael just in time to see him grimace. She had gotten the exact same reaction from Maria when she mentioned her invitation to Tess and Kyle. And that grimace had been followed by relief upon learning that the two had not accepted the invitation. Their presence would have no doubt make things… interesting.

Still, she was sure that had Jim still been alive, they would have had Thanksgiving dinner together. And some part of her felt that she needed to look out for Tess and Kyle because they had been Jim's children and she had loved him.

"They aren't alone," Michael said finally. "They have each other."

"The first Thanksgiving after Jim's death," Amy murmured. "I think they might need more than that."

Michael shrugged. "I know. And I am sure Isabel came to the same conclusion. You can rest assured, Ms. DeLuca, that before the evening is over, Max and Isabel will show up at Tess' apartment and make themselves at home. Whether they are welcome or not."

"Hmm…?" Amy reached for a knife and started to carve the turkey. "Forcing themselves upon a family that has expressed hesitation?" she commented, her mind going back to her first several meetings with Michael, to how much she had disliked him, how much she had wanted him to stay away from her daughter. "Sound like anyone you know?"

"Oh, Michael's grows on people," Maria's voice announced as she slipped past Michael and entered the kitchen. "It just takes a while. He's an acquired taste. Like spinach or asparagus."

Amy laughed.

"I'd rather we didn't compare me to vegetables," Michael grumbled.

"Vegetables are good for you," Amy pointed out. "They're nutritious."

"That's what I've always wanted to hear," Michael grumbled. "That I'm _nutritious_."

* * *

Tess was starting to get annoyed.

At first, it had just been Max and Isabel, and although she hadn't been thrilled by their sudden appearance at her door, she also hadn't been particularly surprised. Isabel had greeted Kyle warmly, as though they were old friends and Kyle had reciprocated, if a bit warily.

He'd responded less pleasantly to Max, but she hadn't expected the two of them to place nice. Whatever peace they had managed to make at the end of the year had clearly not made up for the bad blood that had existed between them before that. Still, they weren't at each other's throat, so Tess took that as a good sign.

Max and Isabel had been followed by Michael and Maria. Tess was a bit surprised about Michael's appearance, even though he lived in the apartment right next door. But it was really Maria who astonished her the most. After all, it wasn't like Maria had ever really made any attempt to pretend that she enjoyed spending time with either Tess or Kyle.

And she was making no attempts at it now. The pixie blonde grumbled constantly – and only partially good-naturedly – as Michael practically dragged her through the door, muttering something about not wanting to spend time with Tess or Kyle on a holiday that was supposed to make her feel grateful for the things in her life.

Kyle had looked up at her and drawled, "You don't feel grateful for me, DeLuca? I'm _hurt_."

Maria had glared at him, and Tess had laughed, and the tension had eased somewhat.

But now…

Now this was starting to get ridiculous.

"Liz, what are you doing here?" Tess demanded as she opened the door one last time. The brunette was standing in the hallway holding a small grocery bag in one hand and wearing a bright smile. Alex was hovering behind her, craning his neck to see past the petite blonde.

"I figured that everyone would be here," Liz explained as she slipped past Tess into the room, Alex following and closing the door behind him.

"Oh?" Tess pressed.

Liz shrugged. "Well, I figured that Max and Isabel would definitely come by because its your first Thanksgiving since…" she trailed off, looking uncomfortable, "since… you know…" She was unable to say the words, but it wasn't like Tess needed her to elaborate.

She'd spent most of the day thinking about Jim, anyway.

"And then I thought Michael would come, too," Liz said, pushing onwards in her explanation. "And he was having dinner at Maria's, so I figured Maria would be here, too. So I called Alex and we decided to come. I mean, it's Thanksgiving. You should spend it with your family, right?"

"And somehow you think that we're family?" Tess asked skeptically. "You do remember that I've spent much of the past decade trying to make you miserable, right?"

"Yes, we remember," Alex cut in. "But since we don't know how many more holidays we will get to celebrate together in the future, and because this is the first Thanksgiving without Sheriff Valenti, we though it would be a good idea to…"

"Invade my privacy and drive me insane?" Tess cut in, eyebrows raised.

"Well, I was going to go with stop by to show our caring and support," Alex replied, "but your reasoning works, too."

Tess glanced over at Kyle. He was sitting at the table, holding a cup of tea in his hands and watching the entire proceeding with a mixture of surprise and bemusement in his eyes. She knew he had never quite wrapped his head around the fact that she did really have an entire other family besides him, and that no matter how rarely she got along with the others, they were all in this mess together.

He understood it partially, and in theory. It was why he hadn't asked her to come with him when he left during the summer. It was part of the reason he had reluctantly agreed that she needed to return to Roswell when Isabel was falling apart.

But it was more than just responsibility. It was actual concern and caring, and the proof of it was right here before him.

He seemed to like seeing it, seemed to take some reassurance in the fact that she still had people watching out for her.

Still, his utter disregard for the invasion of their privacy was a bit annoying.

"Why aren't you here yelling at them with me?" Tess asked sharply, narrowing her eyes at her brother.

"Because I'm kind of enjoying watching this," Kyle answered honestly. He looked over at Isabel and asked, "Do you place bets on who will win? Normally I'd put my money on Tess, but Liz has this whole scarily determined look in her eyes, so I'm starting to have my doubts."

Isabel chuckled. "I know what you mean. Plus, if Alex is backing up Liz, then it's two-to-one. So the odds are really in Liz's favor."

"Okay, seriously," Tess said fiercely, hands on her hips, "all of you get out."

"Oh, but we _so_ wanted to be here," Maria practically simpered, a faint edge of sarcasm in her voice.

"And I brought popcorn," Liz protested, holding up the grocery bag and displaying the bags of popcorn inside. "I'll just go put it in the microwave."

And she walked past Tess towards the kitchen.

"Don't make me mind-warp you!" Tess called out threateningly.

Liz paused in the doorway and turned back, a smile in her eyes. "Don't make me use my nifty new powers on you."

"What are you going to do, pull secrets out of my brain?" Tess asked. "I hate to break this to you, Liz, but I'm not actually that subtle in my feelings. I think I've made it pretty clear that I don't like you."

"Come on, sit down, Tess," Max said with a yawn. "You lost the argument the moment you opened the door. I really doubt you can convince Liz to leave."

"Oh, so you're taking _Liz's_ side, are you?" Tess said, smirking suggestively. "Are you going to hold her hand and help her make the microwave work, too?" She watched in amusement as both Max and Liz flushed at her remark, and then said, "If you revert back to your pathetically lovesick self, Max, I'm never speaking to you again."

"What is it with people calling me pathetic today?" Max demanded, looking between Tess and Isabel.

"People call you that everyday, Maxwell," Michael replied. "They just normally do it behind your back."

"Oh, I do it to his face," Isabel said cheerfully.

Max glared at her.

"So, can we stay?" Alex asked, folding his arms over his chest and looking at Tess.

Tess looked around the room. Isabel was leaning against the wall by Kyle's seat, and Alex was crossing towards her. Max had started inching towards Liz, and Maria had taken the seat next to Kyle. Michael was standing behind her, hands resting on the back of her chair.

Tess sighed. "Fine. But only because you brought popcorn."

* * *

The FBI agent straightened and looked around the apartment one last time. All of the cameras were in place, hidden well enough that no one would notice unless they were actively looking for them. It had been a risk to come here, particularly now with the others in the apartment next door. But it had been a risk worth taking, and it had been a success.

He let himself out of the apartment and carefully relocked it with his lock-picking kit.

Michael Guerin's apartment was bugged, and all he had to do was sit back and see what he learned.

* * *

Next Chapter: Now or Never

Due: Sun 3/20


	30. Now or Never

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: This chapter brings back Patrick (and Lillian). They were two Royalist scouts (like Jared and Kristalia) that we met earlier in the story. Patrick will be important over the next few chapters.

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Thirty: Now or Never

"Hey. How… how is everything going?"

"It's… it's good. Um… how about you?"

"Good."

"Okay… well… good. That's good."

Kyle stared at the ground for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. Conversations with Trudy had never been this awkward, not even when he was dating Pam and she was dating Jason and they were constantly annoyed with each other. And it wasn't as though their split hadn't been perfectly amiable. It wasn't as though they didn't still care about each other. Life had gotten in the way, and that wasn't something either of them could have foreseen, but he had still wanted to be her friend.

Yet now that she was standing right in front of him, he couldn't think of what to say.

Trudy seemed to be having the same problem. She was flushed, her skin a faint pink, and her eyes kept darting around nervously, unable to hold his gaze.

"We… we haven't really talked much," Trudy said after a pause. "I mean, Tess keeps me pretty well informed, but… you and I haven't…"

"I know," Kyle cut in quickly. "I know. Things have just been…"

He didn't really know how to finish that sentence. How could he explain it all to Trudy? Sometimes, when bad things happened, people clung tightly to what was familiar, not wanting to let go. Not wanting to lose themselves. So how could he explain that his reaction had been the exact opposite, that he had needed to get away from everyone and everything as quickly as possible?

Trudy reached out and placed her hand on top of his, "I get it." He looked at her, eyebrows raised, and she elaborated, "I mean, I don't completely get it. But I… I understand that you needed to not be here. I just…" She paused, chewed her lip. "I guess I just wish things hadn't ended so…"

She stopped and withdrew her hand, folding her arms around herself.

Kyle sighed. He hadn't really wanted things to end the way they had, either. He really liked Trudy, and he'd enjoyed being her boyfriend. He was fairly certain they would still be dating now if he hadn't left.

If his father hadn't died.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She looked up at him, surprised. "Kyle… you don't have anything to apologize for. I'm not… I can't blame you for needing to take care of yourself." She hesitated, then added in a rush, as though afraid that if she didn't say the words now, she would never say them, "I just didn't ever really think you'd leave Tess."

Kyle flinched. He felt as though he'd been slapped; her words had taken his breath away. He knew she didn't mean it to be any sort of accusation. It was just a simple statement, a very honest comment. That was the one part of his behavior that had been so blatantly out of character. Despite all their bickering, before his father's death, Kyle would never once have thought of leaving Tess.

Even when he found at that she was part alien, even after that when he broke through her mind-warp, learned about all their lies, and then nearly died… even though he'd been furious at the time, some part of him had always known he'd forgive her and everything would be okay in the end.

But again, none of this was anything he could explain to Trudy.

"Or maybe," Trudy murmured, "I didn't think she would leave you. That she would let you move away and leave her behind."

Kyle heaved a sigh. "It's complicated."

Tess _couldn't_ leave. She didn't have that option, she would never have that option. As long as Max, Isabel, and Michael were here, Tess would be here, too.

They had a war to fight.

But he didn't want to think about that, because it scared her far more than he wanted to admit. And it hurt him, too. After all, Tess would either die in this war, or she would survive and then consider the possibility of returning to her home planet, leaving him behind.

Then he'd really be alone.

"Yeah… I know," Trudy agreed. "But… but it's more than just your Dad's death…" She stopped, looking suddenly horrified. "I didn't mean it like that. I didn't mean for it to sound like… like the car accident wasn't a huge and… and horrible thing…"

Kyle forced a smile. "I know."

Trudy looked down. "I'm not really good at this. We should just… maybe we should just stop talking."

"I missed you," Kyle said on a whim.

Trudy smiled sadly. "I missed you, too."

There was a silence.

"But life goes on," Kyle muttered.

Trudy stared at him, then nodded. "It does," she agreed. "But I'm really glad I got a chance to see you. I… I'm glad you came home for Thanksgiving."

Kyle smiled. "Me, too."

He hadn't been sure if he would until the last minute. Or, rather, Tess hadn't been sure if he _should_ until the last minute. It wasn't until he promised her that he'd run at the first sign of trouble that she reluctantly agreed it was probably safe enough for him to come for the weekend.

And he was glad he had. At the very least, it had been nice to see Tess and nice to now get a bit better sense of closure on his relationship with Trudy.

It didn't really stop the whole thing from hurting, though.

But he wasn't Max and Trudy wasn't Liz and their relationship didn't feel like an all or nothing sort of thing. They could drift apart without anything disastrous happening. They could grow up and go their own ways and still be friendly, still exchange kind greetings and smiles when their paths crossed.

They could move on.

Most people don't find soul mates at sixteen. And Kyle knew from his own first relationship that what sixteen-year-olds so often confuse as true love was really just hormones and inexperience. He hadn't really been in love with Liz when they had dated, but he had certainly believed that he was. And Trudy had helped him see past that, had helped him see the truth, and he thought he'd been in love with her. But that hadn't be the case, either.

He still cared deeply for her. Just like he still cared for Liz even if he didn't want to admit it.

But, as he had said to Trudy, life went on.

Then he frowned. "What were you saying about this having to do with more than just my Dad's death?"

Trudy averted her gaze. "It's nothing," she said quickly.

His frown grew. "Trudy?" he pressed.

She exhaled sharply, then said, "I'm not… I'm not blind, Kyle. None of us are, not even Sara or Jessica, and God knows they act like it most of the time. We've all noticed the change in Tess."

"Change?" Kyle asked worriedly.

"You _do_ remember what she used to be like, right?" Trudy said with a teasing smile. "Mocking, spiteful, shallow. Still a fundamentally good person, but… Like Sara and Jessica, but worse."

"Wasn't she always one of your best friends?" Kyle asked pointedly.

Trudy sighed. "Yeah. And… and most of the time, she was a great person to have as a friend. It was everyone _else_ that didn't do so well with her. I mean, come on. You remember what she thought of Liz when you two were dating."

"Yeah. So?"

"So… she's not… she's not… really like that anymore, is she?" Trudy said softly. "She's… different." She rubbed her eyes for a moment, then added, "And I think she's not the only one who has changed, but I don't know Max, Isabel, or Michael well enough to be sure of this."

Kyle nodded warily. It was true, Tess had changed. She could still be incredibly callous, but it didn't happen as often. In middle school and the first year of high school, she had been everything Trudy had described, but little by little, that had changed.

And he knew what had changed it. But again, it was not something he could tell Trudy. After all, how could he tell her that the reality of an alien war had been the reason for the change in his sister without telling her about aliens or the war?

Instead, he shrugged and said, "People change. That's what happens when you get older."

"But it's not just getting older," Trudy replied. "And whatever it is… it's the reason Tess didn't move with you to San Francisco. It's the reason she came back early this summer. And… and you know what it is."

Kyle met her gaze. "I do."

"But you can't tell me," she continued.

"No," Kyle agreed tensely, "I can't." And not only did he not want to betray Tess' secret, he also didn't want to get Trudy involved in the mess. He might not know Liz well anymore, and maybe he had never really known Alex or Maria, but he still had some idea of how hard this had been for the three of them.

Not to mention the fact that it had gotten his father killed.

Trudy must have seen all of that in his expression, because she said, "And you think I should stay out of it."

He didn't answer. It felt wrong to do so, to agree with what she was saying aloud even though he was doing it silently.

Trudy smiled unhappily and looked away.

"Trudy, I…"

"No," Trudy said quickly, "you don't need to…you don't need to explain anything, Kyle."

"I don't want you to think that I'm… that I'm purposefully shutting you out or… or anything like that. Or that this… this thing… is the reason that we… that we grew apart. It's not, it's really… it's not," Kyle said, tripping over his words.

She shook her head. "I don't think that. We grew apart because that is just what happens. I know that." She rested her fingers lightly on his arm. "And Kyle… I know that whatever else is going on, it's also part of the reason you were so ready to get away from Roswell. And if you think I shouldn't be try to figure out what this whole other thing is… then I won't. Like I said, I'm not blind. I can see that it changed Tess, and maybe for the better, but… but I can also see that it hurt the two of you a lot."

Kyle swallowed. "I really do miss you," he said. "And Roswell."

"But you really like San Francisco," Trudy countered.

"Yeah, I do. I think… I mean, it took a while, but I think I have a chance to… to be happy there. I'm sorry if… if this wasn't what you wanted to hear."

"Of course I wanted to hear that you're happy, Kyle," Trudy answered. "As for everything else… I'm just glad it has been said. I'm glad it's out in the open now."

"So…" he smiled tentatively, "we're good?"

Trudy returned the smile with a genuine one of her own. "Yeah, we're good," she confirmed. "I really… I really hope everything works out for you, Kyle. Whatever it is you wanted to find in San Francisco… I do truly hope you find it."

* * *

The rest of the Thanksgiving weekend passed quickly enough, and soon school resumed as normal. Kyle returned to San Francisco, and the others returned to worrying about the war.

And they all knew that, somewhere out there, Khivar was planning.

They were running out of time.

* * *

Max watched anxiously as Liz sorted through yet another stack of printouts. He knew things were starting to make sense to her and Alex, but they still only had a vague grasp on what the machines did, and he wasn't sure how much time they had left before the next attack.

Part of him was annoyed at Brody for leaving like this, for dumping so much information into their hands but not explaining how to use any of it. But the other part of him understood the man's reasons for leaving, and couldn't fault him for his desire to get away from the painful memories associated with this town.

"Stop pacing, Max," Liz said without looking up. There was a hint of irritation in her voice.

Max sighed. "Sorry," he grumbled under his breath.

Liz twisted in her seat and gazed at him. "Having you pacing in the background isn't really conducive towards sorting through this stuff," she said, gesturing with one hand to the computers and other odd-looking devices Brody had left behind.

"I know, I know," Max agreed, raising his hands in a sign of surrender. He doubted he was being at all helpful, and almost felt guilty about it. But he wasn't Alex and he didn't understand any of this, so really, what good could he actually do?

"I know you feel like you're on a timeline," Liz said sympathetically. "And I really am trying to work as quickly as possible. It's just… there is a lot of stuff here, and Alex and I are struggling to understand even part of it."

"I know," Max replied, pulling out a chair and sinking into it. "It's not even… this isn't even the reason I'm on edge. I just… I hate this… this _waiting_."

Liz pursed her lips. "Do you want to take the fight to Khivar?" she asked quietly. "Do you want to be the one to attack him?"

"Not really," Max replied in frustration. "And even if I did want to do that, I don't think we know enough about where he is or how many skins he has or… or anything like that." He ran a hand through his hair absently. "I just wish we knew more. And I wish it didn't feel like Khivar was the one deciding everything…"

"He's not," Liz replied firmly. "Max, the reason he wasn't able to attack earlier was _not_ because of some choice he made to hold off. You all injured him. He _had_ to wait, he had to recover from the fight inside Isabel's dreams."

"It's been a while," Max murmured. "I'm sure he's recovered by now."

"But he's cautious," Liz pointed out. "He's not stupid enough to make the same mistake twice."

Max furrowed his brow. He knew that comment was supposed to make him feel better, but it really didn't. After all, what it meant was that the next time Khivar attacked, he wouldn't do it alone. He'd bring an army and he'd make sure that he had enough people to destroy them.

Still, he forced a smile for Liz's benefit, and if she saw through the façade, she didn't comment on it.

She turned around in the chair and bent her head over the printouts once more. Max watched her in silence as she stumbled through the numbers and code, her gaze moving up to the computer screen a few times. He wanted to say something more, but he couldn't think of the right words.

They had come far enough in mending their relationship that they could now both handle being alone with the other. There were very few awkward pauses and usually the silence wasn't uncomfortable. But they never seemed to make it past platonic conversation. Their friendship was just that: _friendship_. Nothing more, nothing less.

And he wanted something more.

He opened his mouth to say something, and then snapped it shut. The words just wouldn't come.

After a few more minutes of quiet, Liz asked softly and without looking up, "Have you thought about after?"

"After?"

"After the battle," Liz elaborated.

Max stared at her. Of course he had thought of that. It had been on his mind for weeks now, occasionally creeping to the forefront of his thoughts. He'd tried his best not to dwell on it, reasoning that there was no point in worrying about the future until he was sure that he actually had a future. He had to survive the battle first.

But the thoughts were there, plaguing him when he let his guard down.

"Some," he said abstractedly.

"Do you… do you know what you're going to do?" Liz pressed, her tone diffident. Almost as though she did not want the answer.

And maybe she didn't.

She hadn't said it in so many words, but he knew what she was specifically asking. Would he return to Antar, would he reclaim his throne, would he leave her behind?

He couldn't even imagine what it would be like to do any of those things. He wasn't prepared, he wasn't experienced, he wasn't trained… he wasn't what Antar needed right now.

But he might be the only thing that they actually _had_. If he didn't return, who would stop the civil war? It wasn't enough to presume that it would end here, with Khivar's death.

Assuming that they managed to defeat Khivar.

Someone had to stop it on Antar, too.

But how could that someone be him?

"I haven't… I haven't really figured it out," Max said finally. "I just want to make it through this first problem."

Liz slanted a look at him. "Yeah… I guess that's true."

Was this it? Was this the reason their reconciliation had been stalled? Max averted his gaze, mulling the problem over in his mind. It was entirely possible. After all, why would Liz want to start another relationship with him now, when he might leave her at any moment?

"I don't want to go back," he admitted. "I just… I'm just not sure I'll have much of a choice."

Liz nodded reluctantly. "You have to do what you think is right," she murmured.

Max rubbed his eyes. He was scared to go back, and part of it was because he was scared to be a king. But that wasn't the entire reason. He was scared to leave her, too. To leave his parents, Maria and Alex, all of Earth. Everything he had ever known, everything he cared about, everyone he loved.

How could he leave them to return to Antar?

But how could he not?

* * *

"There are rumors that Khivar is calling the rest of the skins to him," Ahab said gravely, looking around Michael's crowded apartment. The four Royals were there, along with the three humans and several Royalists.

"Calling the… wait, they weren't with him already?" Isabel questioned.

Ahab shook his head. "Not all. Some had other tasks. But they will be with him soon. And that can only mean one thing."

There was an uneasy silence in the room. Several sets of eyes had focused on Max, as though expecting him to say something. But the hybrid king stared blankly back, either not understanding what was expected of him or not knowing what to say.

Ahab looked at Michael. Speaking to the troops before a battle would have been more of his job, anyway.

But Michael just scratched his eyebrow with one hand and scuffed the floor of the toe of his shoe.

Kristalia, perched on the arm of the sofa, said, "We still have a little bit of time. Enough to leave."

Ahab inclined his head towards her, acknowledging the point. They could still leave Roswell if they wished. They could delay the battle for a few more months, a few more years. They could prepare more, they could learn strategic tactics and fighting. And maybe then they would have a better chance.

"Leave? But where would you go?" Liz asked in confusion, looking between Kristalia and Max.

Ahab narrowed his eyes at the brunette. He had not interacted with her as much as he had interacted with the other two humans. And although he was starting to have a burgeoning respect for the computer geek and the abrasive blonde, he had yet to make up his mind about Liz.

She had missed out on quite a lot, and had not been privy to these previous conversations. She had no idea how often they had spoken about this war, or what exactly they had discussed. Ahab knew she must mean something very special to the hybrid King if she was able to simply slip back into the group as though she had never left, but he wasn't entirely sure if that was a good thing.

Max could hardly afford a distraction right now.

"They want _us_ to leave, Parker," Michael explained dryly. "To run from Khivar."

"We can hide you," Ahab said. "Believe me, we can hide you quite well. We can buy you some time, enough to…"

"No," Max cut in succinctly, his tone clearly indicating that he would not consider this option. He looked up and met Ahab's gaze. "If we leave, Roswell will be unprotected. We've had this conversation before. I won't let that happen, I won't let Khivar destroy this town."

"You might not be able to stop him," Kristalia argued.

Ahab sent her an annoyed glare. Telling the Royals that they might fail and die wasn't exactly helpful at the moment.

Even if it was a very real possibility.

But Kristalia ignored him and pressed on, "If Khivar attacks, where do you think the battle is going to be? _Here_. In Roswell. People will get hurt anyway."

"Then we will have to come up with a plan for him to attack outside of Roswell," Max answered calmly.

"How?" Isabel questioned.

Max frowned at her, his expression of firm resolve falling slightly. "I'm not sure yet," he admitted.

"Your best chance at survival is to run," Kristalia said. "But we would have to leave now. We would need enough of a head start to know that the skins aren't close behind. If we wait any longer it would be unlikely to give us much time. It's now or never."

"Then we're choosing never," Max said. "We're going to stay and we're going to fight."

Kristalia clicked her tongue is disapproval.

"We have had this conversation before," Tess said irritably. "We're not running. We just _aren't_."

"And the three of us are helping," Liz added.

Max started and frowned at her. Ahab raised his eyebrows, an amused smile forming briefly on his lips at the look of bewilderment in the king's eyes. But the stakes were far too high to spend much time dwelling on the brunette's stubbornness, and he opened his mouth to speak.

Max beat him to it, "Not in the actual fighting. In the planning and everything, but…"

"We've fought before," Maria said sharply, glaring at Max.

Max blinked once, and then said, "That was different. _This_ is different."

"How?" Maria demanded, leaning forward with eyes blazing.

"Because!" Max snapped.

Maria looked about to argue, and Ahab cut in quickly, "Because this is Khivar. This is an army of skins. This _is_ different, whether you want to admit it or not. Besides, the Royals are not on their own anymore. They do not need your support, they have ours." And he gestured with one hand to the soldiers filling the room.

"They don't need our support?" Maria repeated, lips pressed into a thin line.

"He didn't mean it like that," Michael murmured. "But he's right. And so is Max. I'd really rather you didn't get killed in this." He lowered his voice, as though hoping the others weren't listening, but Ahab still caught every word. "I can't fight if I am worrying about you. I can't… I just can't."

Maria's expression softened ever so slightly, but she still said in a firm tone, "You might need me."

"There are probably things you can do to help that don't involve being in the middle of he battle," Tess said warily, "but lets not get ahead of ourselves. We don't know when this battle is going to be, we don't know where it is going to be, and we don't have a plan."

"It's going to be soon, we know that much," Isabel answered.

Tess nodded slowly. "But that's not specific enough."

"We are working on gathering the specifics," Ahab answered gravely. "But there is a more pressing matter to discuss. I need to know what you would like to do about the rebel skins."

"Destroy them?" Isabel suggested bitterly.

Ahab studied the princess for a moment, but then let his gaze wander to the others. They all seemed to agree with her statement, although Alex seemed a little worried. He was staring at Isabel as though her words – or perhaps the venom behind them – troubled him. And he had a reason to be concerned, Ahab supposed, given that they were so carelessly discussing killing an entire group of people for the sins of one person.

Still, it was hard to know how much the mayor was involved in Courtney's plans. He was the leader of the rebels and it was entirely possible that he knew all along what she was doing.

Of course, he was dead now, so that point was irrelevant.

"Not all of them were involved in the Lady Courtney's planning," the green-eyed Patrick spoke up from his spot on the other side of the room. He had one arm wrapped around Lillian's shoulders and the other holding his weight propped up against the nearby table. He looked exhausted, and Ahab could hardly fault him for that.

After all, Patrick had been doing quite a bit of work lately, dealing with the rebel skins.

"So we're supposed to suddenly trust them?" Maria demanded incredulously.

"They all want Khivar defeated," Ahab replied mildly. "And while it certainly would be in our best interests to be wary of their other aims, we can't simply dismiss them. We are outnumbered and…"

"No," Michael said firmly. "We don't trust them. They can't fight with us. They just _can't_."

"But you haven't even met most of them," Patrick protested. "You can't judge them all based on Courtney."

"How do you even know they want to fight with us?" Max questioned.

Ahab sighed heavily. "They contacted me a week ago. Patrick has been speaking to them. They say they want to join the fight."

"Most of them were completely unaware of everything that happened with Courtney," Patrick added.

"So they say," Michael growled. "But we _can't_ trust them."

Ahab glanced over at Patrick and gave a tiny shake of his head, indicating that the other Royalist should drop the subject for now. Patrick didn't look pleased by the order, but it clearly _was_ an order, so he nodded in acquiescence.

And Ahab new he should not be surprised by the Royals refusal to even consider that members of Courtney's faction might not be like her. After all, Courtney had done nothing but cause death and leave destruction in her wake. The group had fractured, nearly split, because of her betrayal. And it was too hard for any of them to see past that.

But Ahab could look past it with a more dispassionate view. Or perhaps it was merely because he had been a member of that faction at one point and he knew that not everyone viewed the world with the same opportunistic gaze as Courtney. Either way, he disagreed completely with the Royals reluctance.

He would speak to Patrick after the meeting. And they would go ahead and contact the rebel skins, whether the Royals wanted it or not. He did not like doing something they were so fundamentally opposed to, but if it kept them alive, helped them to win…

That was all that mattered to him.

* * *

The FBI agent stared at the recording playing in front of him, his eyes moving over each of the faces. He recognized most of them from his observations around Roswell, and had already determined that none of them were who they said they were. But it was interesting to see the relationships, to watch as the differences of opinion played out on the screen.

It was clear that Max Evans had some position of authority. And it was equally clear that this Ahab was probably the most knowledgeable of the group.

The FBI agent pulled out his notebook and jotted down a few notes. He hesitated at the end, fiddling with his pen, then wrote _Who is Khivar?_ at the bottom of the page and circled it.

That, it seemed, was the one missing piece.

* * *

Next Chapter: Plans

Due: 3/27


	31. Plans

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: Sorry for the delay, folks. Some problems with FFN and posting... but it should all be worked out now. Hopefully.

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Thirty-One: Plans

It had been three weeks since Thanksgiving, and Max hated this. He hated every second of waiting, of not knowing, of wondering when the next attack would come. He hated the useless meetings with Ahab that ultimately led nowhere because they just didn't _know_ what would happen next. And he hated the continually platonic conversations with Liz that reminded him of their first few conversations during sophomore year when they were both too awkward to get past the friend stage.

It was one week until Christmas, and something about that made the whole thing nearly impossible for Isabel to face. Christmas was _her_ holiday. The month leading up to it was always filled with insane amounts of shopping and planning and organizing, to the point that her family occasionally called her the Christmas Nazi. But none of that could happen this year because there just wasn't time and it just wasn't safe. And yet, she might not get another Christmas, and felt unbearably depressing to do so little for this one.

It had been three weeks since Thanksgiving, and Michael had spent most of those three weeks in the pod chamber, working on his powers. They had gotten stronger, and he could not almost blast his way through Max's force-field shield – a feat that brought him a feeling of great triumph and Max one of concern. The rest of his time was generally divided between Maria and Max or Isabel. The latter two, and Isabel in particular, kept trying to convince him that he needed to spend more time at school. But why bother? There were so many more important problems to face.

It was one week until Christmas, and that meant only a few days until winter break, and Tess couldn't figure out why they hadn't been attacked yet. She went to sleep at night with her phone by her pillow, and expected each evening to have it wake her up and announce the beginning of the war. But it didn't, and with Christmas nearly there, Tess was faced with the decision of whether or not to see Kyle for the holiday. She was convinced it was far too dangerous for her leave Roswell, but she was also fairly certain it was too dangerous for him to return. An attack was eminent, and that meant spending this holiday alone.

* * *

"Uh… what the… Max. Max!"

Alex swiveled in his chair and looked over at Max. The hybrid King's head was bent over a book he was reading, and Liz was sitting across from him, whispering something as she pointed to words on the page. But both looked up at Alex's frantic cry, confusion and worry in their expressions.

"Something happened," Alex said, pointing to the computer screen before him. It was one of the machines that Brody had left behind, and the only one that was of any help to them at the moment. At least, it was the only one that Alex could understand even a little bit, and now, after quite a bit of study, he had a pretty good idea of how it worked.

It measured energy, and distinguished between different types and locations. And the undulating line that had appeared only moments before could only mean one thing…

"Look, see this spike here on the graph? And then see how this line… no, not that one," Alex said in exasperation as Max stared at the wrong graph, "_this_ one. See how it's starting to rise? Slowly, but steadily."

"Yeah, so?" Max asked.

"It's an energy source. And it's coming closer to Roswell."

"An energy source?" Max questioned, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to Alex with an thoughtful look on his features. "What do you mean? What kind of energy source."

Alex chewed his lips. "See… here's the thing. I don't think it is just one energy source. People are made up of chemicals, and those chemicals give off a kind of energy. But each person's energy varies a little bit, each person is unique. So if someone were to measure the energy in this room, they would find a different energy for you, me, and Liz. As well as for all the machines."

"Okay," Max said slowly, clearly struggling to keep up with the explanation. He glanced at Liz, but she gave a slight shrug, indicating that she didn't know much about this, either.

Alex turned his attention back to the computer screen. He still couldn't quite believe that Brody had managed to make something as complex as this all on his own. He'd never really gotten to know the eccentric UFO Center owner, but the few times they had interacted, Brody had struck him as imaginative and fanciful, but not necessarily brilliant. And it had taken brilliance to create something like this.

He sighed. It was just more evidence that it was so remarkably easy to misjudge someone.

"Alex?" Liz murmured quietly, pulling him from his thoughts.

Alex blinked and nodded, then tapped his finger against the graph on the screen. "This line fluctuates. It changes, grows and falls. It's not measuring a single large source, it's measuring a whole bunch of little sources. People, if I had to guess."

"People…" Max trailed off for a moment, then said, "Skins?"

Alex quickly typed a few commands into the keyboard and brought up a different screen with three graphs. "You give off a different energy than I do," he said. "It's amazing, Brody was so close to figuring out the truth about you. He could distinguish between human energy and extraterrestrial energy. I looked at his notes, and it seemed as though he was going to attempt to use the machine to pinpoint the _type_ of all of the energy sources in Roswell. That would have undoubtedly led him to you four. But he just didn't get around to it before…"

"Before Sydney died," Liz said.

Alex nodded. "I think so." He was silent for a moment, and the air was tense and awkward. A quick glance at Max revealed anger and grief and guilt in the hybrid King's tawny eyes. Alex frowned, and let his gaze wander down from Max's face to his hands. They were clenched tightly in his laps, interlocked so hard that their knuckles turned white.

Liz reached out and placed her hand on top of Max's fist and he gave her a sad smile.

Alex looked at the computer screen again. "Anyway, I'm still trying to figure out how to work this program. I should be able to analyze the energy signatures of all these approaching people. But even without that… they're all coming towards Roswell from the same direction and at the same pace. So it seems likely that they are skins."

"How fast are they moving? When will they be here?" Max demanded.

"I don't know." Alex swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "I'm still not sure it's the skins, Max. I mean… it could be a lot of things. I just… if I can run the program, then maybe I can get a better read on things…" He shook his head and stared thoughtfully at the keyboard, trying to think of which orders to give.

"So you want us to wait until you know more?" Max questioned.

Alex nodded. "I think… I think that would be a good idea. Just give me until the end of the day. Then…" He looked up. "I'll have something better. Something more useful."

"Okay," Max agreed with a sigh. "Thanks, Alex."

* * *

To Isabel, it felt like all they ever did was meet to discuss plans for a war they had no idea how to fight. It was yet another gathering in Michael's apartment, this time to discuss the technical aspects of machines they didn't fully understand and graphs that made no sense to her. She knew it wasn't really a waste of time, that this discussion was important, but it just felt so pointless.

Did they really need some computer printout to tell them that an attack was eminent?

"It's definitely the skins," Alex said. "Their energy signature is distinctive. I was able to compare it to the signature Brody measured during the… what was it called? The Harvest?"

And he looked to Isabel for confirmation.

She nodded slowly, her mind wandering back to last year. Had it really only been one year ago?

Had it really only been two-and-a-half years since the shooting?

"Do we know when they will get here?" Michael asked.

Alex shook his head. "I can't figure that out. Brody doesn't have a program for it, and I don't know how to write one. But for machine to suddenly pick up on this energy… they must be close. I'm not sure how far it's radius extends, but it is definitely not infinite."

"So this is happening?" Isabel whispered. "It's really happening… _now_…"

"Christmas is in four days," Liz said almost fearfully. "I don't want…"

Isabel frowned at her. It seemed almost ridiculous for Liz to say that she didn't want to have to fight the war on Christmas. After all, why did it matter what day it was when they were fighting a war that could very well kill them all? Except… except that Isabel knew exactly how the brunette felt. She didn't want to have to fight on Christmas, either.

"We need to figure out a way to get the skins to attack outside of Roswell," Max said briskly, clearly pushing aside his own emotions to focus on the aspects of the plan that still needed to be figured out. "I don't want them coming into the town."

"But where?" Maria asked.

"What about the old factory where Whitaker took Tess last year?" Michael suggested.

"I'm not sure it is big enough," Tess answered softly. "If we're trying to get all the fighting to happen inside, that is… And I assume that is our goal. Unless you want the battle to be seen by any random passersby."

Isabel looked at Tess for a moment, then turned and frowned at the three Royalists in the room. They had all remained quiet throughout the conversation so far, and while Isabel did not know Patrick well enough to determine if his silence was out of character, she did know that neither Ahab nor Kristalia ever kept their thoughts to themselves.

But Ahab had his gaze trained on the ceiling and his expression was one of intense contemplation, so Isabel wasn't even sure if he was aware of the conversation. He seemed so lost in his own thoughts.

"What about the compound where Rath took Isabel?" Alex suggested softly, and Isabel looked at Michael in time to see his expression harden at Alex's words. Memories of Trevor clearly played through his mind.

"It probably is big enough," Isabel agreed.

"How will we get the skins there?" Liz questioned. "And are we sure it is abandoned? I mean… what if there are skins there right now?"

"There aren't," Kristalia answered. "Jared checked shortly after we retrieved Isabel. We believe all of the skins left after Nicolas' death."

"That still doesn't answer the question of how we will get the skins there," Maria said. "I mean, we can't just go and stay there until they attack. We don't know when they will attack. We don't know…"

"We need some kind of bait," Max interrupted.

"But what are the skins after other than the four of you?" Alex pointed out reasonably. "You are the bait, and as Maria said, you can't just…"

"The Granolith," Isabel interrupted. All eyes – even Ahab's – were suddenly fixed on her, and she shrugged. "That is what the skins want. That is what Khivar wants, almost as much as he wants us dead."

"Okay, but it's not like we can move the Granolith to the compound," Michael countered.

"You might not need to," Ahab said, speaking up for the first time. Looking at Alex, he said, "Show me Mr. Davis' computers tomorrow. I have an idea."

"Uh… okay," Alex agreed.

"We can meet again tomorrow to discuss my idea if it is feasible," Ahab said, looking at Max. Max nodded once in agreement, and then the Royalist continued, "There have been rumors."

"Of what?"

"Nasedo."

Isabel gaped. She was not the only one. It appeared as though everyone else was equally stunned by mention of the shape-shifter. Although Isabel had occasionally thought about him, there was little reason to dwell on those thoughts. Courtney had admitted to killing Nasedo, and so any remaining questions about his loyalty seemed irrelevant.

Despite this, Max asked in a tense voice, "What about him?"

"They say he is alive," Ahab replied. "Our sources believe that he is being held prisoner by Khivar."

"I don't understand… how? Why?" Isabel demanded, rubbing at her eyes and wishing that for once their lives could become _less_ complicated, and not more so.

"I don't know," Ahab replied. "I don't know any more than what I've told you."

"What difference does it make?" Michael questioned bitterly. "Dead or Khivar's prisoner, it doesn't matter. He won't be part of the battle, we don't have to worry about him."

"Which is good, because he isn't trustworthy," Liz added sourly.

"I agree," Ahab answered, inclining his head towards both Michael and Liz. "But still… I would like to know how he ended up with Khivar."

Isabel closed her eyes. There were a lot of things they would like to know, but that didn't mean that they would find the answers.

* * *

"I am _so_ glad it is winter break," Jessica announced as she slammed her locker shut and glanced at her friends. "Two weeks without school, without class, without having to get out of bed early every morning… What could be better?"

"Summer break," Chris replied, nodding towards Jessica as he draped his arm over Tess' shoulders. "Three _months_ of no school, no class, not having to get up early… and sun."

"We have sun year-round," Trudy pointed out.

"Yeah…"

"Whatever," Sara cut in, "I think the point Jessica is trying to make is that it is finally winter break. We are totally free for two weeks."

"Not totally," Cliff argued. "We have homework."

Jessica shuddered. "Ugh, don't remind me. Did you look at that calculus problem set? It's _ridiculously_ long. I do _not_ want to spend my entire winter break dealing with numbers."

Tess grimaced inwardly. The way things were going, calculus was going to be the least of her concerns over this break.

* * *

"I think we can use the computer as bait," Ahab said. "Alex Whitman was able to show me the measurements taken from the Granolith when you first discovered it. I have reason to believe that the energy burst resulting from it was what triggered the skins to come back to Roswell. They had finally located the Granolith, although they did not know exactly where it was. But they came because of _it_. So all we have to do is reconstitute the signal and send it out from the compound and it will draw the skins to it."

Max gave him a bewildered look. "Huh?"

Ahab sighed in what was a very impatient sort of manner. But it was Liz who elaborated, filling in the gaps that Max didn't quite grasp yet.

"Remember when you four found the Granolith?" the brunette said.

Max nodded warily.

"You told me that you had a pentagon-shaped device, and Isabel suddenly had this flash that it was… I don't remember… like an ignition or something. And you placed it on the base of the Granolith and it send out this energy burst. Do you remember that?"

Max nodded again. "It was a white light. It came out of the Granolith, passed over the four of us." He was puzzled for a moment, then he turned to Ahab and demanded, "And that is the reason the skins came to Roswell? That light?"

Ahab nodded.

It made sense, Max thought silently. He had not spent much time thinking about it before, but now that he did… it made sense.

"The skins knew where the four of you were," Liz said quietly. "Or, at least, they knew where Tess was. They found her the night they killed the Hardings. They must have kept tabs on her, it would be idiotic for them not to. So they saw her come to Roswell, and they could have found the rest of you."

Max let out a breath. "Nasedo said something like that during our sophomore year," he agreed. "That they didn't come to Roswell when we were younger because they didn't know if we had the Granolith and…"

"They _need_ the Granolith," Liz agreed.

The two of them looked to Ahab for confirmation. He nodded grimly. "They are afraid of it. I do not believe, Max, that either of you fully comprehend its power. And it _is_ powerful. They want to get it away from you. And they are afraid that you will use it on them."

"Can we?" Max demanded. "Use it on them, I mean…"

Ahab shook his head. "The Granolith is an energy source, but Earth does not have the proper technology to use it. The scientists who sent you to Earth assumed that you would use the Granolith to power your spaceship home, so that is the only capability it has at the moment. If we were on Antar, it could do more, but…" He trailed off, apparently lost in thought, and Max wondered briefly what they had been able to do with the Granolith in the past. How powerful had it been to inspire such fear and awe?

"But if we can't use it to fight right now," Liz asked skeptically, "then why is Khivar so determined to get it away from us?"

Ahab smirked. "He doesn't know that we don't have the technology for it," he answered. "_That_ was a closely guarded secret." He sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. "We would have preferred to send it with more capabilities, but there wasn't time. We were barely able to get the four of you safely away from Antar. And since we always assumed that you would come back and fight the war there, it was not particularly necessary for it to do as much here. You would have its full power at your disposal when you returned." He paused, then added delicately, "A lot of things were supposed to be different."

"You mean we were supposed to have all of our memories when we… hatched?" Max filled in, a bit bitterly. "And we weren't supposed to get close to humans?"

Ahab shrugged, but did not answer the questions directly. Instead, he said, "The scientists were brilliant, but they had never done this before. We didn't know what to expect."

Max said nothing for a long moment. Then, finally, he forced himself to turn his thoughts away from all of that and focus on the beginning part of the conversation.

"And you think we can use the computer to lure the skins into the abandoned compound?"

Ahab nodded. "This device measure energy. I believe I can modify it so that it will send out the same signal that it measured previously. If I place the computer in the compound, the skins will go there. Khivar will be convinced that you four are somehow activating the Granolith and will be desperate to stop it."

"So it will be our bait," Max summed up.

Ahab nodded.

Liz broke into the conversation and commented, "But this will only work if we do it before the skins arrive at Roswell. Before they attack. And we don't know when they are coming."

"We know they are close," Ahab replied. "It is Saturday. I believe the longest we can wait is until Tuesday evening. And even that is a risk. But it would give us time to prepare. Once we send out the signal, Khivar will attack as soon as possible. They won't wait."

"Tuesday evening," Max murmured. "December 26th."

"At least it's after Christmas," Liz offered.

Max smiled slightly, but thought inwardly that that small blessing wasn't enough. This was all happening too quickly, and if Ahab's plan worked…

They would be facing Khivar in three days.

* * *

"Lizzie? Sweetheart?"

Liz glanced up as her mother knocked on the door to her room and entered. "Hey, Mom," she said cautiously, noting the concerned look on her mother's face and wondering what was wrong.

Nancy Parker sat down on the edge of her daughter's bed. "How are things?" she asked.

"Things?" Liz replied, eyebrows raised. "Uh… they're good, I guess. Why?"

"We haven't talked in a while," Nancy replied. "I just… I wanted to make sure that you are happy. That you're glad you came back from boarding school."

Liz accepted this in silence. It was true, she and her mother had not talked much lately. Her life had been so hectic and filled with so many complicated relationships and emotions that she simply had not had the time to deal with her parents. It took effort and energy to lie to them, and she hated doing it, even though she knew it was necessary.

But at least she didn't have to lie now. She could answer that question with complete honesty, "I am happy, Mom. I'm glad to be back in Roswell."

"You've just been so distant," Nancy said softly. "Sometimes I feel like I'm losing you. You're not my little girl anymore."

"I'm growing up," Liz replied. "It happens as you get older."

Nancy laughed gently. Then she sobered and said, "I know you're growing up, Lizzie. You'll be heading off to college next year. And you're such a wonderful young woman and filled with so much promise… But you know that you can still come to me for anything, right? No matter how old you are, I will always be your mother."

"I know, Mom," Liz replied. But this wasn't something she could tell her mother, and not just because of the consequences of revealing the secret. Everything was a mess, and her entire world might fall apart in a few days, and she had to know that her parents weren't part of this. That they would not get sucked into the alien abyss with her.

She didn't regret meeting the aliens. She didn't regret what her life had been like these past few years, even when parts of it had seemed unbearably difficult. But she didn't want the same for her parents. She didn't want to have to worry about them the way Max and Isabel worried about Diane and Philip, or the way Tess had worried about Jim when he was alive.

Good parents didn't leave their children to fight wars all alone. And her parents were good parents, and they would want to protect her as much as they could, and it would only put them in danger, and she would never be able to live with herself if they got hurt because of her.

It was strange, thinking those thoughts, thinking how hard it would be to live with the guilt if her parents were put in danger. Her own careless words from several months ago came floating back to her, and she remembered with guilt the way she had glared at Max, flushed with fury, and told him that he didn't want to believe an alien was responsible for the crash that had taken Jim's life and put Alex in a coma because that would make it his fault.

How could she have ever said something like that? How could she not have known how much it would hurt the four hybrids? How could she not have known that they already blamed themselves for this mess, and she was just making it worse?

"Lizzie?"

Liz started, and looked at her mother. "Sorry, I was just… thinking."

"Your mind seemed very far away," Nancy commented.

Liz nodded. "It was." She smiled tentatively, and reached out to take her mother's hand. "I know you and Dad were worried about me at the beginning of the year and I know that… that maybe you still are. But I'm happy. I'm glad to be back. I just… Roswell is my home. And it is where I belong, at least for right now."

There was a war to fight, and for good or ill, she was part of it. She was not backing down, not now, maybe not ever.

"Are you sure?" Nancy asked.

"Yes," Liz said without any hesitation. "I'm sure."

* * *

"You can't come home for Christmas, Kyle," Tess said firmly. "We've already had this discussion and you just… you can't. Okay?"

Kyle held the phone to his ear and flopped back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He could hear the underlying fear in Tess' voice, and he knew what it meant.

He let out a long breath. "It's happening soon, isn't it?"

There was a pause from the other end of the line, then Tess said, "Yes. We think… we think the night of the 26th."

"Tuesday?"

"Tuesday."

Kyle groaned. This couldn't be happening. It just _couldn't_.

"Kyle, promise me you won't come back to Roswell. Promise me you will stay safe."

Kyle might have refused, but he could hear the clear panic in Tess' words. His sister was near hysteria, and he did not need to wonder how she would react if he refused. He knew, he could hear it. She would fall apart.

He had no desire to be involved in this war. But he also had no desire to let his sister face such a dangerous enemy alone. Still… he was human. There was nothing he could do to help.

"Kyle?" Tess pressed.

"I promise," Kyle said. "I'll stay safe. But Tess… promise me you will stay safe, too."

"I promise," Tess replied, and they both knew it was a lie.

* * *

Next Chapter: Christmas Tidings

Due: Sun 4/3


	32. Christmas Tidings

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Two: Christmas Tidings

_Sunday evening…_

The lightheartedness of the previous Thanksgiving dinner was gone, and Christmas was turning out to be a tense affair. It had started out innocently enough, with a delicious looking dinner on the table and a feeling of warmth inside all of them. And, actually, the dinner itself had gone well enough. It wasn't until Diane had started clearing the plates that everything spiraled downwards.

Max cleared his throat. "Mom, Dad…" He stopped, looked at Isabel. She met his gaze, then stared down at her plate. She didn't know what to say, didn't know how to help him. The conversation was going to unpleasant no matter what, and although she didn't want to ruin Christmas by ending on this note, they had little other choice.

Max ran a hand through his hair.

"Max, what is it?" Diane asked, setting the pile of plates she was holding down on the table and taking her seat again.

"You and Dad need to leave. Tonight if possible, tomorrow morning at the latest," Max said.

"Tomorrow is Christmas Day," Diane protested. "I can't just leave. Why would we…" And then stopped, realization dawning in her eyes. She slanted a quick look at Philip, and then said, "Something is going to happen tomorrow?"

"Not tomorrow," Isabel replied. "But… soon. And you can't… you can't be here when it happens. We need you and Dad to… to be far away…"

"No," Philip said firmly. "We're not going to… we can't just… _leave_."

"We've already talked about this," Max said wearily. "You can't stay. Things are going to get bad and…"

"We are your parents," Diane cut in. "It is our job to protect you."

"You _can't_," Isabel replied bluntly. She knew her parents still didn't fully comprehend the danger. And how could they, when they had never seen a skin attack, when they didn't know the full extent of their own children's powers?

"You have to give us more time to prepare," Philip argued reasonably. "I can't just leave my work. I need to arrange to have someone cover my cases and…"

"You can do that from the road," Max said. "You can call in sick. Your work will understand. They can manage without you for a few days." He stopped, and Isabel heard what he _didn't_ say lingering in the silence – _better than them having to deal with losing you permanently because you died_ – and she fought back the tears.

"Just… just get out of Roswell," she muttered.

"How long have you known about this?" Diane asked sharply. "How long have you known that… that something would happen?"

"Years," Max answered just as sharply.

Diane sent him a searching look, and then amended her question, "How long have you known that something would happen… soon? And when is soon? When will this happen…?"

The two hybrids exchanged brief looks. They had wanted to conceal the details from their parents, but there was really no way to do that. Not with Diane asking such pointed questions, not with Philip gaze stubbornly at them, refusing to back down.

But they weren't going to back down on this, either.

"Tuesday evening," Isabel answered. "And you need to be long gone by then."

"Tuesday evening?" Diane repeated, aghast. "But… that's in _two_ days. How long have you known that… that this would happen on Tuesday?"

Isabel chewed her lip. "Since yesterday afternoon," she replied. "We just… we wanted Christmas Eve dinner to be nice. We didn't want to ruin it." She was perilously close to tears, but this was not the time to cry. This was not the time to show any hesitation, any weakness. She had to convince her parents to leave.

"And what is going to happen?" Philip asked. "What exactly is…" He stopped, looked between his children. "Are you fighting? Is this… this Khivar… going to be in Roswell?"

"Yes," Isabel breathed. "Along with his army."

"His _army_?" Philip repeated, horrified. "And you expect us to just leave? Izzy, we saw what he did to you when it was just him attacking your dreams. With an entire army…"

"You can't help us," Max interrupted. "You just _can't_, Dad."

A tense silence met those words, and Isabel looked around the room helplessly. There was a fire crackling in the hearth, and her parents had bought and decorated a Christmas tree. She and Max had not helped with that, and it made her feel far worse than she had expected. And now they were ruining what was left of Christmas with an argument.

But what other choice did they have?

She gave Max a helpless look, and he stared back, unable to say anything to make this easier.

"You're my son," Philip said at last. "And I know you are nearly an adult and you've been dealing with so much more than normal teenagers, but you are still my son. It is my job to look after your welfare."

"You can't…" Max started again, but Diane cut her off.

"Stop saying that, Max. Stop acting like you're all alone! You aren't, can't you see that? Can't you see that your father and I…"

Then Isabel interrupted. Leaning forward, she caught her mother's hands and said, "We know we aren't alone. Mom… we haven't been alone since you found us in the desert twelve years ago. And I know that you want to protect us, I know that you want to help us… but don't you see? You already _have_ helped us. Max and I… we can't even begin to express how lucky we are that it was the two of you who found us and not… not someone like…"

"Like Hank," Max said flatly, bringing up Michael's foster father for the first time in over a year.

Diane's expression hardened. She had never liked Hank, and she certainly not liked the way he had behaved towards Michael, towards the boy he was supposed to raise. She had always been furious at the fact that Michael had ended up with someone like that, and Isabel knew that part of the reason they had not trusted their own parents was because of Hank, because of the way he acted. He did not care about Michael, and he would not have kept their secret.

But her parents were different. And she loved them. And they had helped her – and helped Max, too – if only she could get them to see that.

"We know that things could have been worse for us," Isabel said. "So much worse. We've been scared… terrified… for twelve years. And things have changed a lot these past few years and we're sorry we didn't tell you sooner, we're sorry that we didn't trust you with this secret. But… you have to believe me… it wasn't because we didn't love you."

"Oh, sweetie, I know that," Diane said.

"But you and Dad… you have been the only things that were constant in our lives," Isabel continued. "All we had growing up was Michael and Tess and the two of you. And we were scared and… and everything always seemed like it was out of control, but… I can't even begin to describe how much it helped me to come home at the end of the day and know that you loved us. And I should have known all along that you would love us no matter what."

"But it wasn't just that," Max added. "We weren't just afraid that you wouldn't love us. We were afraid that you would… and it would put you in danger. Just like it is doing now." He paused, drew a breath. "Jim Valenti is dead. And Tess and Kyle… it nearly destroyed them. Losing you two would destroy Isabel and I, too."

"You are the one who raised us to believe that we had to fight for what was right, to stand up against people like Khivar. And I know this isn't exactly what you had in mind, but…" Isabel looked at Max and he smiled sadly back at her. "But this is the right thing to do. Max and I have to fight. And you can't help us any more than you already have… but you _have_ helped. The last twelve years could have been so much worse and I don't think… I don't know how Max or I would have survived everything that happened without you. Without knowing that we could come home and you would be there and you would love us. We're stronger because of it… and we're going to defeat Khivar because of it."

She said it with so much faith and emphasis in her voice that Max looked at her in bewildered amazement and for one brief moment, she actually believed the words.

Diane sighed and looked at Philip. He nodded slowly, and she said, "Okay. We will pack and leave tonight. But we're not going far and you _will_ call us as soon as it is safe for us to come home. And you will be safe, too. Promise me that."

All four of them knew it wasn't that simple. All four of them knew that Max and Isabel might not survive, that Isabel's words were more a wish than a reality. But no one wanted to say that, not right then, and Isabel averted her gaze and nodded and Max whispered, "We will."

Then Diane got up and left the table and Isabel finally burst into tears.

* * *

_Sunday night…_

"How did it go with your parents?" Michael asked as he sat down on the bench next to Max and Isabel. Isabel's eyes were bloodshot and Max looked glum, signs that the conversation had not gone as well as they had hoped. But still, he had to ask. He had to know what had happened.

"They agreed to leave," Max whispered. "And the did. They packed a suitcase and… and drove away."

"I should feel relieved," Isabel murmured. "But all I feel is lonely."

"At least they won't die," Tess said from where she stood opposite them, arms folded over her chest, chin lifted so that her face was pointed towards the sky.

"Yeah," Isabel agreed.

They had arranged to meet at the park after dinner. The sun had long since set and the sky was dark, the inkiness not even interrupted by stars. The cloud cover obscured everything, and Michael frowned at Tess, wondering what she was seeing as she gazed upwards. There was nothing there to look at.

So many of their problems had been discussed at these park benches, Michael thought tiredly. He knew the other three occasionally came here to think, and while he himself preferred the desert, that had not stopped him from wandering through the park over the years.

"How was your Christmas dinner?" Max asked.

Michael glanced at him, then looked at Tess. "Okay," he said. "Amy and Maria are both kind of lousy cooks, and every time I try to make something I end up setting the oven on fire, but Tess brought a casserole that was really good."

Tess rolled her eyes and huffed a bit. She had accepted Amy's invitation to spend dinner there because, unlike Thanksgiving, she didn't have any other plans for this holiday. And though Michael knew that Tess and Maria had both made an effort to get along with each other and be cheerful throughout everything, the forced lightness of the conversation could not fully take away the strain that lingered.

Amy had assumed it was simply because this was Tess' first major holiday without Jim or Kyle, and it was bound to be difficult for her. And that _was_ part of it, but it wasn't the whole truth.

But the whole truth was wrapped up in personality clashes and an oncoming war and could not be easily explained to a woman who nothing about any of it.

"Can you believe this? Can you believe any of it?" Max asked.

"No," Tess said. "But what does that have to do with anything? Our entire lives have been completely unbelievable. And not in the good way."

"After the fight…" Isabel let out a tense breath. "Are you ready to go back to Antar?"

"No," Max said flatly. "Not even a little." He looked up, and Michael saw trepidation and something else, something unidentifiable, in his eyes. "And I'm wondering if we even should."

Michael stiffened. "Do we have a choice?" he growled. He didn't want to leave either. He had Maria. He had a home here. For the first time in his life, he actually felt as though he belonged somewhere. How could he give it all up for people he had never met, people he didn't know?

But he was finally starting to resign himself to the reality that this was what he had to do. He could not let more people die in a never-ending civil war, no matter what he wanted for himself. It wouldn't be right.

"I'm not thinking about what we want," Max said. "I'm not… I know we need to think about what Antar needs. What our… our people… need. But I just wonder… do they need _us_?"

"They need _someone_," Tess said.

"Yes, but an eighteen-year-old with no memory of the past and no idea how to lead a group of four, let alone an entire planet… is that what they need? Am I what they need?" He shook his head. "I wouldn't be hesitating this much if I knew for a fact that we could fix this, we could end the fighting. But I _don't_ know that. And the more I think about it, the less likely it seems to me that we can change anything. That we can help them. They need a real leader."

"Who do they have?" Michael questioned. "If not the four of us, who do they have to lead them?"

Max shrugged miserably. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I hate this. I hate having to make these decisions. I hate thinking that… that if I do the wrong thing, people will die."

"Well, look on the bright side," Tess said deadpanned. "_We_ might all die on Tuesday, and then we won't have to make the decision at all."

"Well, that's comforting," Michael responded, mimicking Tess' tone.

"We'll figure it out," Isabel said suddenly, looking up at the clouds. "Somehow, we'll figure it out."

"Really?" Michael asked skeptically.

Isabel nodded, then slanted a look at Max. "Do you remember Bigfoot?"

"My guinea pig?" Max asked, and Michael bit back his own laughter at the ridiculous name Max had given his pet.

Isabel nodded. "Do you remember what happened to him?"

Max grimaced. "Mr. Martinelli's dog got into his cage and killed him."

"Oh, I remember that," Tess said suddenly. "You were so upset about it. When was that… fourth grade?"

"Yeah," Isabel said. "And Max moped around the house all day." She smiled fondly at her brother. "Do you remember what happened the next day?" Max frowned in concentration, trying to recall the details, and Isabel said, "It snowed."

"It was the first time we had seen snow," Michael said quietly, shaking his head in amusement. "It snowed for two days."

"It was the biggest storm to hit Roswell in a century," Tess added. "It was a disaster for everyone. I remember Jim being furious about it, about having to deal with all the people who had no idea how to drive in the snow. There were so many stalled cars on the roads."

"But we loved it," Isabel countered. "We built snowmen, made snow angels…"

"Pelted Michael with snowballs," Max added, grinning.

"It was magic," Isabel said. And she lifted her hand towards the sky, waving it slightly. A moment later, snow began to fall. Large flakes drifted down towards them and covered the ground in a light dusting if white. "Just like this."

They were all silent, staring upwards at the snow.

* * *

_Monday morning…_

Finding Max appearing at her window reminded Liz so much of their first year of dating that it took her a moment to figure out what to do. Then her mind kicked in and she flushed and hurried towards him, pulling open the window and beckoning for her to enter the room.

"Merry Christmas," he said, holding out his hand and presenting her with a neatly wrapped package.

"Thanks," Liz said. "I don't…" She looked around her room helplessly. She had not bought anything for Max, even though he had been on her mind a lot lately. She had been unsure about what to do, unsure if they were at the point where they exchanged gifts. The entire relationship confused her, and she didn't like not knowing where they stood.

But Max waved away her stammered words. "Just open it," he prompted nervously, not seeming to care that he had bought her a present and she hadn't returned the favor.

Liz swallowed uneasily, but nodded and undid the wrapping. She found herself holding a long, thin box and her heart leapt into her throat because she knew exactly what kind of box it was. But maybe it wasn't anything special, maybe she was wrong, maybe…

She lifted the lid and gasped.

The pendant was set on a golden chain that stood out against the dark padding of the box. It was a small pendant, an elegant golden knot that twisted around a small piece of oddly-shaped red glass. Each piece separately would have appeared strange, but together they were striking.

"Knots are supposed to symbolize eternity," Max murmured. "Eternal friendship, eternal loyalty, eternal love. Just… things that will last forever."

"Max… it's beautiful," Liz whispered.

Max smiled. "You like it?" he asked, the nervousness gone from his expression.

"Yeah… I do."

He nodded and stepped further into the room, sitting down on the chair by her desk. "Liz, I…" He stopped, ran a hand through his hair shakily.

She looked at him expectantly, waiting. She had no idea what he would say, but at this point she didn't really think it would matter. She was so thoroughly bewildered by everything – first they argue angrily, then they don't speak at all, then she leaves Roswell, then she comes back and they still don't speak, then they start to speak but don't get past platonic friendship, and now he buys her a stunning Christmas present, and what did that all _mean_? – that nothing he said could change anything.

She felt almost as though she was stuck in a rut. The necklace might be a sign that he wanted to get past the arguments that had occurred at the end of last year, but she wasn't so sure she was ready for that.

But she also knew she wasn't happy just being friends.

It was complicated.

"I don't like this," Max said, not looking at her. "I don't like… I don't want you to fight, Liz. I don't want you to…"

"I have powers," Liz protested.

"Not offensive ones," Max replied, still averting his gaze. He interlaced his fingers on his lap and studied them.

"Maybe not," Liz agreed, "but you might need my abilities. We haven't figured out all the details yet, but you might need my help."

"It's too dangerous. If something happened to you because of me…"

"If something happens to me," Liz said firmly, "it won't be because of you. It will be because of Khivar and his skins. It will be because of Courtney and her betrayal. It will be because of the choices I made. But it won't be your fault."

He looked at her then, an amused and slightly condescending expression in his eyes. And she tensed, bracing herself for whatever he was about to say, but when he spoke, his words were soft and sad and not patronizing at all.

"You've said that before, Liz. When Sydney died. And I wish I could believe it. And maybe it was true then, maybe Sydney's death wasn't my fault. But yours would be."

"Max…"

"Sydney did not die because of this war. She had cancer. She had leukemia. And she would have had that regardless of whether or not we had ever come to Roswell. But this is different. This is very different."

"I'm part of this too, Max," Liz answered, a slight edge in her voice. She'd already left Roswell once, scared away by the sense that she was just another burden for the four of them. But this wasn't about what they wanted. This wasn't about what _Max_ wanted. This was about what she _needed_ to do.

And she needed to fight.

Max nodded. "And so are Alex and Maria," he agreed. "But…"

"Max," Liz said firmly, "this isn't about the four of you. This isn't about Maria or Alex. And you know what? This isn't about me or my family or any of that. This is about Khivar. This is about knowing the difference between right and wrong. I _have_ to fight him. I told you once about the future, about what Future Michael said would happen to this planet because of Khivar. And I need to fight against that. Because it's the right thing to do."

"I love you," Max said. "I've always loved you."

Liz hesitated, then answered truthfully, "I know. But you can't protect me the way you can protect your parents. Because I'm not leaving."

He nodded and looked away again. "Okay."

"Okay?" she repeated, surprised. She had been expecting more of an argument from him. Since when did Max give in so quickly, particularly on things he believed so strong?

He shrugged. "It's your decision." Then he reached out and caught her hand. "But stay close to me. Whatever happens, stay somewhere close so that I can protect you."

She swallowed uneasily, but inclined her head in acquiescence. Max rose to his feet and glanced towards the door of her room. She knew he was wondering if her family was up yet. It was Christmas day and it was still early, and she was no longer at the age when she would run down to the Christmas tree to unwrap presents as soon as waking up. But her parents would wonder where she was if she didn't appear relatively soon, and the last thing she needed was for one of them to find Max in here.

She had only just barely managed to convince her mother that returning to Roswell was the right decision. Having Max in her bedroom on Christmas morning would _not_ be seen as a good thing.

Max crossed towards the window.

"Anyway… merry Christmas. I just wanted you to…" He gestured towards the box still in her hand and sighed. "I just wanted to give you that."

"I miss you," Liz blurted out before she could stop herself, before she could think through the repercussions of the words. "I miss you so much. And I know that you might return to Antar and I know that I would be left behind and I know that we had problems in the past, but I miss you. And it _hurts_."

Max froze, then turned to face her again. "I miss you, too."

And she leaned in and kissed him, and he kissed her back.

* * *

_Monday afternoon…_

"Alex has a plan," Michael announced as he sat down next to Maria on the sofa in her thankfully empty living room. "He thinks he can wire the compound so that he can observe what is going on from Brody's computers. We're not sure how helpful it will be, but having an extra set of eyes watching from safety might be a good idea. Maybe he will see something that the rest of us fighting will miss."

Maria tilted her face up to look at him. "Oh?"

"So you and Alex should stay at the UFO Center tomorrow night," Michael continued.

"Michael…"

"It's a way for you to help and not be in danger," Michael interrupted stubbornly.

Maria raised an eyebrow. "You're trying to placate me," she said bitterly. It felt as though he was offering this just to keep her quiet, to keep her from protesting the fact that they were leaving her behind. And she knew the dangers and she knew the risks and she knew that she couldn't help him the way Max, Isabel, Tess, and even Liz could. But it didn't matter. She couldn't just watch from the sidelines as he rushed into a war.

"I'm not trying to placate anyone," Michael replied in frustration. "I'm trying to keep you alive. And we keep having this argument and I keep having to explain to you why I don't want you to get killed. It's repetitive and annoying."

Maria rolled her eyes. "And it's equally annoying from my end that you don't even stop to consider what this is like for me, to know that you could get yourself killed and I can't do anything to stop it."

Michael reached up and scratched his eyebrow. "You could never do anything to stop it," he said. "That was always inevitable."

Maria jumped to her feet, suddenly filled with venomous anger. "Stop it!" she hissed, and Michael looked taken aback by her rage. "Stop dismissing everything so casually. Stop acting like I don't get to discuss this. I have a say in what happens to me. I have a say in my life!"

"And your going to make the choice to get yourself killed?" Michael drawled sarcastically, mockingly.

Maria scrubbed at her eyes, irritated by his inability to be serious about this. It was an argument that they had had many times before, and she knew it was not one that they would ever fully resolve. But she had gone with him to Copper Summit, to Marathon, Texas , to the Harvest… Why couldn't he see that she wasn't useless?

And she remembered Ahab's words. That this was different, because Khivar was involved. Because an army of skins was involved. But why did that change anything? It was always dangerous, and she went with Michael anyway.

Her feelings must have shown on her face, or else Michael was just really good at reading her, because he said, "This is Khivar, Maria. And maybe it doesn't seem different to you, but it is. Ahab is afraid of him. Courtney was afraid of him. Nasedo was afraid of him. People who are more powerful than we are seem to be terrified of him. Doesn't that tell you something about his strength?"

"You beat him once," Maria said stubbornly.

"He was on his own then, and all four of us were together and we had the Royalists to help us," Michael answered. "And Tess nearly died. This is… he is more than all our other problems combined. And this battle will be unlike anything we have ever faced."

Maria folded her arms over her chest and turned away from him. The sun was setting, and red and golden rays of light fell through the window, illuminating the room. Christmas Day was almost over. And for all she knew, it could be her last Christmas with Michael.

And they were spending the last few minutes of sunlight arguing with each other.

Typical.

"I don't get why you are so determined to fight," Michael said, and she started and spun around. He had risen to his feet and was standing directly in front of her, and she hadn't even heard him move.

But his questions was so completely clueless that it only served to make her angrier.

"Because I want to help you," she seethed. "How can you not understand that?"

"Help me?" Michael repeated with a cold laugh. "_Help_ me? Maria, what do you think you've been doing for the last three years?" He stepped closer to her, grabbing her arms with his hands. "I would have run. I would have left Roswell and saved myself and Max, Isabel, and Tess rather than fight Khivar. Three years ago, I would have left this town to fend for itself because it wasn't my home and I didn't care about it. I thought humans were the enemy. I thought strangers were the enemy. But everything changed. _You_ changed it. And maybe I still don't care about the people in this town, but I'm willing to stay here and fight to keep them safe, and I'm willing to risk my life to help the people on Antar, because they _aren't_ the enemy and because it's the right thing to do. And that's because of _you_. I'm fighting this war for you. So why do you need to put yourself in danger? Why do you need to get killed? How will that help me? How will it help anyone?"

Maria closed her eyes and stepped forward. Michael wrapped his arms around her and she rested her head on his chest. "Okay," she said softly. "Okay… I'll stay with Alex."

* * *

Next Chapter: Saying Goodbye

Due: Sun 4/10


	33. Saying Goodbye

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: This chapter is pretty short, but it is the last one before the big battle starts. After this, we get the final conflict (which will be divided into multiple sections).

Summary: Sequel to Time After Time. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Three: Saying Goodbye

_Tuesday morning…_

"Maria… what's going on? Young lady, what did you do?"

Maria looked up in surprise at her mother's strict expression and then turned a bewildered gaze towards the kitchen table. "I… I made breakfast," she answered, confused. The eggs were a little burnt and the pancakes were a little undercooked, but it wasn't as though she had sent the house on fire, so what could her mother possibly have to complain about? She already knew Maria wasn't a good cook.

"Yes," Amy said suspiciously. "And when was the last time you did something like that?" Her eyes scanned the kitchen quickly, apparently expecting some horrible surprise to jump out of the shadows. "You're trying to get on my good side before dropping something terrible on me. Did you crash the car? Did you get a tattoo? Did you pierce some part of your body that you shouldn't have?" Her face paled, and she said in a fearful whisper, "Oh, God, did you sleep with Michael?"

Maria's eyes widened and she opened and closed her mouth several times. It wasn't like she could honestly answer that question. But she hadn't even been expecting it, and so had not thought up a proper answer.

And the momentary silence seemed to be enough to confirm Amy's fears, and the older woman demanded, "Are you pregnant? Did you get an STD? Oh, Maria… are you sick?"

"What? No. No, no, no. Mom… Mom, nothing like that happened," Maria said quickly, holding her hands up in a sign of surrender. There was really only one good way out of this conversation, and though she didn't like so blatantly lying – although, when in the past few years had she ever been completely honest with her mother? – there was nothing else to do but force a smile and say flatly, "Michael and I didn't have sex."

Amy studied her face for a moment, then nodded. But whether or not she believed Maria was still up in the air as far as the pixie blonde could tell.

Maria sighed.

This wasn't at all what she wanted. She had made breakfast because she wanted to, because she wanted to share the morning with her mother. She wanted to do something nice, something normal, something that would get her mind off of their impending doom.

"I just thought it would be nice to have breakfast together," Maria said quietly. "I mean… I know you sometimes think we aren't as close as we used to be, and I… I might be leaving next year, going away to college or… or something… and I just…" She gave a helpless shrug. "Sorry. I'm just trying to do something nice."

Amy's expression softened. "Oh, sweetie," she said. "Thank you. Breakfast smells delicious."

"Okay, now you're just lying," Maria shot back, grinning as the atmosphere lightened.

Amy laughed. "One day you will have children, Maria, and you will understand that anything they make for you will always be wonderful." She eyed the slightly blackened eggs and added, "Even if other people don't think so."

"Well, the orange juice is from a carton, so I don't think I screwed up pouring it into the glasses," Maria answered. "And the toast came out okay, I managed that one." She reached for the spatula that was resting on the counter and poked at the eggs. "And if we scrape off the edges of this, it should be…"

"Delicious," Amy inserted before Maria could finish the sentence.

"I was going to say edible," Maria countered. "But anyway… come on, sit down. Breakfast is served."

Amy slid into the offered seat and Maria placed the frying pan of eggs and the stack of pancakes on the table. Maria then poured herself a glass of orange juice and took her own seat, deciding it would probably make the most sense to wait and let her mother try everything before determining what she herself would eat.

That way only one of them would get sick if the food wasn't cooked properly.

She took a sip of her juice and smiled innocently at her mother.

Amy reached for one of the pancakes, and then paused, giving Maria a long, searching gaze. She was obviously hoping to find something in her daughter's expression, but whatever she was looking for didn't seem to be there.

"You really didn't sleep with Michael?" she asked finally.

Maria choked on the orange juice.

* * *

_Tuesday around noon…_

"I should have come earlier. I didn't, and… and I should have. I know Tess comes all the time, and even Alex has come at least once, and maybe the others… And I'm sorry it took me so long to get here. But I'm here now."

Max kicked at the dirt with his shoe, scuffing the ground. He was trying to think over his words, trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to say. It was hard, though, because his thoughts were jumbled in his own mind, and tied up with too many painful emotions.

He glanced up at the sky and sighed. It was gray, almost completely covered in clouds. The air was still warm – it never got truly cold in Roswell during the day, even if December – but the clouds made it seem gloomy. As though even the atmosphere knew what was going to happen today, and was mourning the inevitable death that would accompany this fight.

He ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm scared. I'm absolutely terrified," he said. "The entire world could crumble if I fail. All of these people are counting on me to keep them safe, and they don't… they don't even _know_ it. They have no idea what will happen tonight. They have no idea that their lives could be completely changed by this…"

He stopped, cutting off the words abruptly. This wasn't what he had come to say. He didn't want to lay his burdens on someone else, particularly not someone who had already suffered so much because of them.

He exhaled sharply.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry we did this to you. I'm sorry… I'm sorry you had to pay for our mistakes."

It started to drizzle. A light rain, practically just a mist. The air grew wet, the ground grew damp, and still Max stood there, struggling to find the words. Struggling to say what had been lodged inside him for too long.

"I'm sorry we couldn't save you."

He dropped to his knees in front of the gravestone. Droplets of rain had formed on the hard granite, creating tiny rivulets that cascaded over the etched letters and ran to the ground. It obscured the words, making the name hard to read.

"I'm sorry we trusted Courtney," he continued. "I'm sorry we didn't see what she was doing before it was too late. I'm sorry… I'm just… I'm so sorry." He closed his eyes. "And I'm sorry I didn't come to visit you earlier. I just… I've never been good at talking to the dead."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rock. It was just a lump of gray, not particularly pretty or interesting. But he ran his hand over it, using his powers to make it change, to modify it. To turn it into a stone flower.

"Better than a real flower," Max said with a bittersweet smile. The rain won't ruin it. It won't wither, it won't die." And he placed it against the gravestone, nestling it in the damp grass.

Then he rose to his feet. He had to go, he had to leave the cemetery and return to the harshness of the outside world, to the reality of the war that would come soon. But before he left, he had one last thing to say.

"Thank you," he whispered. "For everything you ever did to protect us." He paused, then added, "I don't know if I'll ever be back. I don't know if I'll survive, and if I do, I don't know if we'll try to go back to Antar. So I guess… I guess this is goodbye, Sheriff. It was an honor to know you."

And he turned and walked away.

The rain continued to fall, drops of water running down the stone, obscuring Jim Valenti's name.

* * *

_Tuesday afternoon…_

"Alex, please… just listen to me…"

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I thought you would be a better option than Maria."

Liz's grip tightened around the phone as she listened to Alex's breathing. She could tell from his tight voice and the way his breath came in frustrated sighs that he was not happy with her plan. And she supposed she couldn't really blame him for it, she knew she was asking a lot.

And she knew he didn't want to face the reality of what could happen.

"So I get to deal with this because you don't want to face Maria?" Alex said finally, a bit sharply.

Liz winced. "It's not like that," she said weakly, and then stopped, because it was _exactly_ like that. She just would have phrased it differently.

She expelled a breath.

"Look," she said, forcing her voice to stay calm and reasonable, "you know that we could all be killed. Max, Isabel, Michael, Tess… and me. We're going into a war, and… and we could die. You and Maria might be the only ones left when this is over, and I just…"

"I don't want to hear it, Liz. I don't want to talk about you dying, about Maria and I being alone," Alex said stubbornly. "I've had enough of morbid thoughts to last me a lifetime."

"You need to be realistic," Liz retorted.

The entire reason she had called Alex with this request and not Maria was because she thought he could actually look beyond his emotions long enough to understand that this was necessary. Maria wouldn't do that. Maria would get stuck on the fact that Liz was preparing for her own death and never get past it. Never hear the truth in Liz's words, never listen to what Liz was saying.

Maria would obstinately refuse to accept the possibility that this could end badly for all of them.

Or, at least, she would refuse to make plans for that ending. Even if she accepted it, she wouldn't be willing to hear what Liz was saying, to agree with what needed to be done.

"Fine," Alex said at last. "Fine. I'm being realistic. You might all die. Happy?"

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you," Liz murmured. And it was so out of place, hearing the bitterness in Alex's voice. But the tension was affecting all of them in different ways, and this was clearly Alex's coping mechanism.

Which was probably better than denial.

"Alright," Alex said, "so if you all die, you want me to take your journal to your parents, my parents, and Ms. DeLuca and let them read it. Then burn the journal and get all of them out of Roswell and as far away from the skins as possible. Is that right?"

"Yes," Liz said.

"And your journal is in your room?" Alex confirmed. "Under your mattress?"

"Yes," Liz replied.

"Okay…" She heard Alex sigh on the other end of the line. "Okay, Liz. I'll do it. I promise."

After thanking Alex profusely and hanging up, the brunette turned back to her journal, which lay open on her desk. She'd written the last entry, recorded everything that had happened up until her most recent conversation with Max and her own determination not to sit on the sidelines.

She picked up her pen, hesitated a moment, and then started to write.

_And so this is it. I don't know how this will end, but if Alex has given this to you, then it hasn't ended well. If the war kills us all, then all I can hope is that we take Khivar with us. I never thought I'd talk like this, I never thought that I would become such a soldier. Such a freedom fighter. The scientist in me rebels at it, but this is the person I've become. And I can't help but be proud of her. I just hope you can be proud of her, too._

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all the lies and for all the things I never told you. I'm sorry that we're no longer as close and that I've gone down a path you probably didn't want for me. But I'm happy. As odd as it is to write that when I'm facing the possibility of my own untimely death, it is true. I had to make a choice, and this is what I chose. Because it is the right thing to do, because these are people that I love, and because stopping Khivar is something that I believe in. Joining this fight is the only option I can live with._

_Please show this to Alex's parents and to Ms. DeLuca, and then burn it. Then go with Alex and leave Roswell. Get as far away from here as possible, because none of us know what will happen next, and I don't want you to get hurt. And whatever else you think about this, about me, please just know that I am happy._

_And that I love you, always._

She put the pen down and reread the last few paragraphs, then nodded to herself, content that this was everything she wanted to say. She wasn't sure how her parents would respond if they read it. She hoped fervently that there would not be a reason for them to read it, that this would not end badly.

But there was no way of knowing for sure.

She closed the journal and slipped it under the mattress of her bed, then left her room. She had promised Maria that she would spend some time with her today, and there were only a few hours left.

About twenty minutes after she had left, the window to her room was quietly pried open, and a man slipped in and looked around curiously. He crossed over to her desk and pulled out all the drawers, rummaging through them. Then he looked in the closet and in her dresser, among the books on her small bookshelf, and in the trash can near her bed. But he didn't find what he was looking for.

He frowned, scanning the room once more. Then his eyes landed on the bed, and he crossed to it quickly and lifted up the mattress.

A thin smile graced his lips as he pulled out the journal.

And then the FBI agent opened it and began to read.

* * *

Next Chapter: War (part one)

Due: Sun 4/17


	34. War part one

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note:I know, I know... I'm late again. But I can actually promise that, if anything, for these next few chapters I will probably be a bit early. I've gotten the whole war segments planned out and mostly written. I just need to review and add in a few details.

Also, the next chapter has five parts. Each part starts with the lyrics to a song. The song is _Progress_ by _Mute Math_.

There will be a lot of violence (this is describing a war – or, actually, two wars), but none of it should be that graphic. Also, each part will have a flashback (in _italics_) describing specific parts of the war on Antar in which the original Royal Four were killed.

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Four: War (part one)

_Pulling your confidence through  
Some courage is well overdue  
I believe solely in all your promise_

They discussed the details of the plan, over and over. It was obsessive, really, and after a while it wasn't doing any of them any good. But they didn't stop. They _couldn't_ stop. And it wouldn't have mattered if they did, because the silence would not have stopped them from thinking of the details, replaying them in their own minds. They had only a few hours left, and could not force their thoughts away from that.

Tonight would decide everything.

And yet the rest of the world was completely oblivious to this pertinent fact. Completely oblivious to the handful of teenagers preparing for a war they didn't want to fight against an enemy they didn't remember.

Every comment Ahab made was absorbed and then dissected, discussed, debated. Usually by Michael or Kristalia, occasionally by Max. Liz interjected a few times. Once or twice Alex offered a remark. And the others listened, nodding in agreement or shaking their heads in dispute.

Max and Liz held hands, fingers interlocked tightly. So tightly that the blood could barely make it to past their palms and their knuckles had turned white. But neither let go of the other. It had taken both of them so long to find each other again after the grief and pain and hurt of the last year, and neither quite seemed willing to accept the reality that this battle could pull them apart again.

Max stared around the room, his gaze periodically wandering from Liz's face. To rest on Isabel's scared features and offer her a faint and reassuring smile. To meet Michael's stoic gaze and nod his head in understanding of the fierce determination the hybrid General felt. To stare at Tess' haunted expression and wish there was something he could say to ease the tension and the stress.

He still wasn't sure he could wrap his head around the fact that this was actually happening. They were going to fight a war. A battle that could end everything for the entire planet. It was absurd and completely unbelievable. How could anyone expect a teenage boy to do anything like this? He might be close to being a legal adult, but what did that really mean? Only that he could vote and buy cigarettes and…

And be drafted. Join the army. Fight.

He looked at Liz again. "I love you," he whispered, even as the others continued to rehash the plan once more.

"I know," Liz answered. She reached up, touched the side of his face gently with her fingers. "And I love you, too. We'll get through this. We'll be okay."

Her voice was steady and her words were firm, but Max could see the fear in her eyes. She was too much of a scientist to convince herself to believe in wishes and hopes instead of reality. But she was struggling to be brave for his sake, and he wasn't going to call her on the lie.

"We will," he agreed.

Maybe her courage would make him more prepared for the inevitable.

And he turned back to the conversation, to the discussion of the plans.

Maria was hovering between Liz and Michael, unsure which potential loss scared her more. She loved Michael with all her heart, but Liz was her best friend. Her first friend. And now both of them would be walking into danger and she would be left behind to watch. It wasn't fair and it didn't feel right, but she knew it was unavoidable. This was not a war she could fight.

Liz looked up at her, and Maria opened her mouth to say something, and then stopped. Because she didn't know what to say. Being at a loss for words was not a problem she normally had to deal with, but right now she had no idea what she could say that would be even remotely appropriate for the situation.

_Please don't die_ was the first thing that came to mind, followed quickly by _I can't do any of this without you_ and _I want to come with you_. But the words were lodged in her throat. How could she say any of them? How could she let her own fears out when she knew that they would just make it harder for Liz?

Michael was at her side then, resting his hand on her arm, and Maria turned to look at him. "You come back to me," she whispered.

"I will," he promised.

But it was an empty promise. He couldn't offer her any kind of assurance of his return. And they both knew that.

Maria looked away from him, across the room towards Alex. He was standing next to Isabel, his arm wrapped around her waist. He smiled when he caught Maria staring at him, and she smiled sadly back.

Alex was the only other one who really understood what it felt like for her to be standing here, preparing for a war she couldn't fight. She knew that her small task might be helpful, but staring at a computer screen was not the same as being in the midst of the battle. It just wasn't.

And Alex didn't appear to like being left behind any more than she did.

But he was accepting it with equanimity. What other choice did he have?

"What if I can't fight him?" Isabel murmured, leaning her head on Alex's shoulder as all the others continued their discussion, casually tossing about Khivar's name, unaware of the way she nearly flinched every time he was mentioned. "What if I'm not strong enough?"

"You will be," Alex said firmly. "You will be."

She turned her head slightly to look at him, blonde strands falling into her eyes. "You don't know that."

"I do," Alex replied. "Because you've already fought him once. And beat him. You can do it again." He pulled away from her so that he could face her fully and said again, "You can do it."

The statuesque hybrid let out a breath. "But what if I can't?"

Empty words were not enough. Alex couldn't just say that everything would be okay and expect her to believe him. They both knew better.

And her words were loud enough to carry to the entire room. The others stopped and looked at her, and Alex felt his own fear and frustration bubbling close to the surface. He hated this. He hated seeing them all so scared, hated knowing that he was unable to help them beyond the little he had done already. He hated knowing that Isabel's words – though disheartening and depressing – were simply reflections of what everyone else was thinking.

What if they weren't strong enough?

"If you're not strong enough," Max said after a moment, "then the rest of us will help you. Just like you'll help us if we aren't strong enough."

Isabel gave an ironic smile at those words. "You've got my back?" she questioned, thinking of all the times that they _hadn't_ functioned as a group.

But even through all of those problems, even through all of that tension, even through the arguments and the bitter words and the fury and hurt and resentment and guilt…

Hadn't she always known, deep down, that they would come after her if she needed them?

"Of course," Tess answered before Max could speak.

"It's time," Ahab said suddenly. "We need to go."

There was a moment of silence, then Max looked at Liz, Michael, Isabel, and Tess. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"No," Tess replied, "but when has that ever stopped us?"

* * *

The sun sank over the horizon, turning the sky a golden yellow. A few clouds drifted lazily overhead, propelled by a cold wind. The desert was silent except for the occasionally chirp of a bird. It looked and felt like any other winter evening.

It wasn't.

Michael knelt behind an outcropping of rocks, gazing at the valley before him. The unused access road curved and twisted about, a dark gray line stretching through the otherwise brown and red ground. The compound sat perched near a curve in the road, it's heavy, blockish structure standing out in stark contrast to the rest of the natural landscape.

He glanced up once. It seemed ironically appropriate to be fighting this final battle at night. The stars would soon be shining overhead, stars that symbolized the entire point of this conflict. He wondered vaguely if Khivar would appreciate the symbolism of that.

Apprehension caused his stomach to tighten painfully. He was incredibly aware of how woefully unprepared they were for what was to happen next. All the training, all the years of secrecy and lies, all the desperate attempts to find out the truth about their past… it all led here.

But Khivar was stronger than they were, and his skins outnumbered them.

And Michael couldn't help thinking that this plan wasn't good enough. They had the element of surprise and the tactic of guerrilla warfare, both of which had been Ahab's suggestions. But that was _all_ that they had going for them. How could it possibly be enough?

He scanned the horizon, freezing as he saw the approaching line of dust. Dust could only mean one thing in this otherwise empty land.

He turned, glancing over his shoulder. The city of Roswell could just be seen in the rapidly fading light. It was far enough away that Michel was fairly certain they would not hear any of the battle. But the news would reach them eventually, though hopefully there would be no details. Just an abandoned compound suddenly ruined and sudden small avalanches of desert rock.

It would be just one more unexplained Roswell mystery.

He caught a glimpse of red hair and saw Kristalia move forward, crouching close to the ground. Several other figures followed her, silhouettes outlined against the rocks.

Michael glanced at the line of dust again.

Cars.

Motorcycles.

The skins were coming.

He met Kristalia's gaze. She stared at him without even the slightest bit of apprehension in her eyes. And he couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking. She had lost all her family during the war, she had been manipulated and used by the people she was fighting for, and yet she was still here, still refusing to back down from this conflict. Did she think they would end it tonight? Did she think that she would finally be free of all this?

He lowered his gaze. They had only two goals tonight. Stay alive. Kill Khivar. Everything else was unimportant. The others skins, even the Royalists… Ahab had inisisted that they understand that. Everyone was expendable except the Royal Four. And they had to kill Khivar as quickly as possible.

It made Michael's throat suddenly go dry at that thought. This wasn't just a war, although there would be fighting. This was also an assassination attempt. They were here to track down their enemy and kill him.

No hesitations. They couldn't afford to second-guess themselves. They couldn't afford to pause.

So much had changed. Just two summers ago, Max had nearly self-destructed over the fact that he had killed Agent Pierce in self-defense. And now they were discussing assassination of a leader and annihilation of his army, and none of them even stopped to ask if it was the right thing to do. There had been plenty of discussions about their chances of surviving, about the best way to proceed. But the goal had always been the same.

Kill Khivar.

Because it was necessary. Because they had no other choice. Because it was the only way to end the war.

He looked back at the compound.

Trevor had died there.

Killed by Courtney.

Nicolas had died there, too.

Kristalia came towards him, gesturing with her hands to the other Royalists. Giving signals. Giving orders.

"Ready?" she whispered when she reached him.

He looked down and realized his hands were shaking.

Kristalia noticed that as well, and frowned. Michael felt instantly defensive. How could she judge him for being nervous? For not wanting to kill?

But instead of making a comment about his anxiety, Kristalia simply said, "I know. I've felt that way for years, too. But they took everything I ever cared about, and we are finally going to end it."

Then she straightened and slipped through the night towards the coming army.

The road to the compound twisted under them, passing between two rising hills. And although Michael could not see the other hill, he there were a few Royalists there, perched on the rocks, waiting. Waiting for the army to pass below them, to move between the rocky outcroppings and into the line of fire.

Ahab was convinced that Khivar would come with the rest of his army. The threat of the Granolith was too great for the skin king to ignore, and he could not simply wait to see what would happen. He would take his entire force, all the skins at his disposal, and he would walk directly into this trap.

But Ahab had also been cautious. Concerned. Because Khivar was smart. Smart enough to understand the possibility that this _was_ a trap, and he would be prepared for it. Not as prepared as he could be, but still…

This would not take him completely by surprise.

Michael closed his eyes and drew a shaky breath. Had he been this nervous last time, on Antar? Had his past-self been frightened, confused, worried? Or had he been so used to war that the violence did not even phase him?

And what had he felt as he died?

* * *

"_Come now, General, aren't you going to attack me?"_

_Rath stood still, torn between his desire to attack the smug, sneering man before them and his need to protect the Queen. Ava was on her knees beside her elderly father, her face pale, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes were fixed on Nicolas, and there was a look of fury in them. It made her look fierce and dangerous, but Rath knew it didn't matter. Nicolas had the advantage here._

_There were other skins in the room, and they were smirking, too. The air was heavy with the scent of smoke and the blistering heat of fire. The palace appeared to be crumbling all around them, and there were so many questions running through Rath's mind._

_He tried to think. _

_Everything had happened so fast, and none of it made sense. They'd been fighting Khivar's faction for a long time now, but this move, this breach of palace security… how had it happened? How could Khivar have managed to bring his entire army in to their sanctuary?_

_Nicolas was holding a weapon in one hand. Rath glanced at it. He, too, was armed, but both of them were carrying laser guns, and if a fight broke out, they would easily end up killing everyone in the room. Nicolas must have known that, Rath reasoned, because he hadn't fired yet._

_The soldiers behind Nicolas shifted back and forth, their eyes filled with eager anticipation._

"_I must say, General," Nicolas said casually, "it will be a pleasure to kill you and your precious Queen."_

_Again, Rath looked back at Ava. She, too, was armed. They were at war, and none of them were foolish enough to walk around unguarded. But she seemed far too preoccupied with her ailing father and her own fury to reach for the small weapon strapped to her waist, and even if she had…_

_Would it make any difference?_

"_You won't win, Nicolas," Rath spat. _

"_How cliché of you to say that. And yet, we already _have_ won," Nicolas answered, opening his arms wide to gesture to the entire room. "We've invaded your palace, General, and captured your soldiers."_

_And again, Rath was baffled, because he just didn't understand _how_._

_Nicolas gave a feral grin. "If you're wondering why it was so easy for us to simply walk through your gates, perhaps you should ask your betrothed."_

No_, Rath thought viciously. _No, that couldn't be true. It was lies, it had to be lies…

_But Vilandra had been enamored of Khivar since long before the usurper made it clear that he intended to take her brother's throne. His first appearance in the palace – a banquet or ball of some sort, Rath recalled with disgust – had seemed innocent and harmless enough at the time. And then it had become clear that it wasn't harmless and innocent, and Zan and Rath had both spoken to Lonnie, had learned what she had done, what side she had chosen…_

_And they had convinced her that Khivar was planning to kill them all. They had convinced her that he was the enemy, that he was only using her. And she had promised to break off all ties with him…_

"_You lie," Ava whispered, horror clear in her voice._

"_Do I?" Nicolas laughed gleefully, taking twisted pleasure in their dismay. "Don't you know she's been on our side all along? Don't you know she's been passing along information to us?"_

_He was mocking them, and Rath felt his blood begin to boil. "She stopped," he snarled. "She _stopped_. She told us…"_

"_And yet, here we are," Nicolas said, smiling cruelly. Again, he gestured with his hands to the room around them, to the soldiers behind him._

"_She wouldn't let you into the palace," Rath argued, shaking his head in disbelief. "She _wouldn't_."_

"_I'm getting rather tired of this conversation," Nicolas said with a yawn. "I have a throne to seize for my brother, and you are wasting my time."_

"_Do you think that matters?" Ava demanded, tilting her chin up and giving Nicolas a defiant glare. "You can kill all of us and it will change nothing. Do you really think the planet will follow Khivar?"_

_Nicolas considered her thoughtfully, as if intrigued by her question. Then he said, "Do you think we can't _make_ Antar follow us?"_

"_I think," Rath said, speaking for himself and Ava, "that you have started a civil war and you cannot stop it. It will destroy you, Nicolas, and it will destroy Khivar, too."_

_Nicolas' eyes darkened, and Rath felt a tiny flare of triumph. He had struck a nerve, he could see that clearly. Did Nicolas realize just how disastrous this would be for them all? Had he watched the factions fighting and come to the conclusion that this coup would not end easily? That it would be followed by years of fighting and bloodshed?_

"_Kill them," Nicolas ordered abruptly, his voice terse._

_As the soldiers jumped forward to attack, Rath flung out both hands and released a burst of energy that caused the walls to shake and part of the ceiling to crumble. The air was thick with dust and debris and the sounds of crashing and crying and confusion. _

_The action had left him winded and weak, but it bought time for him to stumble over to Ava and her father and drag them towards the door._

_Not enough time._

_Nicolas was there, his fingers laced with fire. He reached out, ready to attack. It was an inefficient ploy in a large battle – fire was too tricky and too costly to control – but in a one-on-one fight it was still a powerful tool. Rath fell backwards, away from the heat and smoke. Something hit his chest, and then his head, and pain raced through his body as stars exploded in front of his eyes. He lashed out blindly with one hand, felt his palm connect with skin, and gripped his fingers tightly into the flesh. Electricity ran down his arm, and he heard Nicolas scream in pain._

_He tasted blood in his mouth._

_There was rubble on the ground, but the door was still blocked and there was no way out. Nicolas' skin was an angry red, welts appearing on his arm, spreading out from Rath's fingers. A dead soldier lay by his feet, killed by a falling ceiling tile that had crushed his skull._

_Nicolas twisted out of Rath's grip and pointed his laser gun at the General._

"_Are you mad? That will kill everyone in this room," Rath hissed, feeling a sudden welling of fear. Nicolas' eyes were unfocused, and there was something not quite sane in his gaze. Would he really do it? Kill himself just to destroy them?_

_A movement in his peripheral vision caused Rath to turn around, spinning in time to see another of Nicolas' soldiers lunging towards him. He did not have time to raise a defense, and instinctively prepared himself for a blow that never came._

_The solider stopped, frozen, as the handle of a knife seemed to appear out of his chest. Blood seeped onto his shirt and then he fell face-first, crashing into the ground._

_Ava's arm was still extended from throwing the knife. Her clothing was torn and covered with blood, and there was a thin bruise already forming along one side of her face. She was standing protectively in front of her father, and her eyes flashed with unadulterated loathing and a nearly suicidal determination._

_Didn't she know that it was already too late?_

_They had learned about war in a theoretical manner. It was the earliest training of every aspiring soldier, to be told what war was like. It was viewed as some sort of preparation, a way of making them ready for what they would confront on the battlefield. But it didn't matter, Rath knew. It was pointless, because no words could describe war. No words could prepare anyone for the feeling of slowly losing one's soul, for the hopelessness and the helplessness and the continual questions of _why are we doing this?_ and _what are we fighting for?_, for the sensation of sinking deeper and deeper into blood and dirt and fire while the rest of the world barely noticed. He'd been in too many wars, some that were necessary and some that were not, and in the end, all that experience made no difference._

_It still destroyed him every time._

_Ava turned towards Nicolas, towards the one person standing between them and the door. She grabbed his arms, her fingers closing around the raw skin where Rath had already done his damage. Nicolas' eyes went wide with pain, but Ava didn't seem to notice. She tightened her grip, digging her fingernails into his arm. Nicolas dropped the laser gun and she kicked it away from him, then elbowed him sharply in the nose. Blood spilled down his face and onto her arms._

_War was not pretty and it was not clean._

_Nicolas gained the upper hand quickly, but as he shoved Ava to the floor and kicked her hard in the chest, she managed one last trick. Rath watched as she shut her eyes, and at first thought it was in pain. But then he realized through a haze of confusion and the dull aching in the back of his skull that her father had suddenly disappeared from view._

_She was mind-warping them all._

_It took only a moment, and then something hit Nicolas and he stumbled away from the door. The door opened by the hand of an invisible figure and beyond it, for a brief moment, Rath thought he saw Courtney. But it was too hard to tell because the hallway appeared to be filled with people and rubble and broken glass and stone and smoke and he couldn't see anything clearly._

_Nicolas grabbed Ava by the collar of her shirt and pulled her upwards, but that did not break her concentration. Beyond them, a mass of people scrambling through the hallway, moving towards them and away, and he didn't know who was on their side and who was an enemy and who he could trust. Blonde hair whipped away, disappearing from view among the crowd, and as the mind-warped faltered slightly, he was sure he saw Courtney leading Ava's father to safety._

_It didn't make any sense at all._

_Nicolas flung Ava to the ground with all the strength and fury he could conjure. Her head slammed into the floor and she slumped over unconscious. But the mind-warp broke too late for Nicolas to do anything about it, and Ava's father was gone._

_Nicolas spat blood onto the floor._

_Something hit Rath from behind, and he fell to his knees, losing his grip on his own laser gun. His vision swam with tears of shock, and then Nicolas standing over him, smiling. He felt Nicolas' hands rest on his shoulders. His skin began to burn, and through a fiery red haze of pain was only vaguely aware of Nicolas leaning over, his head just inches away from Rath's ear._

"_I am going to enjoy killing you," Nicolas murmured. "I really am."_

_There was pain…_

_And then nothing._

* * *

Michael moved forward, creeping along the ground. The skin army passed between them, cars and motorcycles and trucks and other vehicles, all carrying skins. Aliens that would not hesitate to kill them, and to destroy all of Earth if necessary. And one of those vehicles carried Khivar.

Michael reached up and touched the earpiece he was wearing. He had no idea how Ahab had managed to obtain all of them, nor did he feel any need to ask. He, Max, Isabel, Tess, Liz, Ahab, and Kristalia were all wearing the earpieces, allowing them to communicate with each other, and with Maria and Alex back at the UFO Center.

Just in case.

It was absurd. It was ridiculous. He was a _teenager_. How could he be fighting this war?

"Ready?" Ahab's voice echoed in his ear.

Michael glanced out at the opposite hill where Ahab and a few other Royalists were hiding. "Ready," he replied. Even though he wasn't. Even though he never would be.

Michael thought of Maria, of her lips pressed against his, of her whispered words. _Losing control_. That was what she had told him when he asked her what she was doing as she pushed him towards her bed. He had been afraid of allowing Rath's traits to come through, of giving in to the power of his past-self.

She hadn't been afraid of him.

"Now," Ahab said.

And Michael jumped to his feet, the several Royalists around him following his example. They all pointed their hands at the ground around them, at the vehicles passing below them. The night sky exploded in burst of light as each Royalist channeled energy towards the ground.

An avalanche of rocks started raining down, and the ground shook. The cars twisted and turned and swerved and lost control as they entered the compound, crashing into each other, and suddenly the war had started.

And Michael thought of Maria, took a deep breath, and allowed Rath's knowledge and personality to break free.


	35. War part two

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Five: War (part two)

_Why waste a second in doubt?  
You could be helping you out  
Keeping your head in the clear_

"How many rooms are there?" Maria asked, leaning forward and staring at the screen. "And how did you manage to get access to all of them?"

"I think there are seventeen rooms, although some of them are just small closets. And Ahab put up cameras when he took the computer there," Alex replied, leaning back in his chair and trying his best not to think about what they had just witnessed. One of the cameras was pointed towards the front of the compound, an had recorded the avalanche of boulders that had caused such havoc on the skin army.

He knew they were the enemy. He knew that the skins would kill them all, and everyone else on Earth, without even the slightest bit of hesitation… but that knowledge did not lessen the guilt that formed in his stomach.

Most of the rocks had passed harmlessly behind the vehicles and created a semi-blockade. Although it would not be impossible for the skins to leave that way, it would be more difficult. It would slow them down enough to make it far too dangerous. They would not attempt to retreat.

They would have to stay and fight.

But not all of the rocks had missed the cars. One car in particular had been hit in the side by a large boulder and spun out of control. It had slammed into another car, sending them both crashing into the wall surrounding the compound. Two skins had been thrown clear of the car, and Alex had only time to see them hit the ground with a sickening thud before their husks broke and they dissolved into nothing.

Several other vehicles had been damaged. Metal scraped against metal, glass shattered and covered the ground. a few engines were spouting smoke, most likely ready to go up in flames at any moment.

Maria looked away from the screen for a moment, unable to watch any more. "So we will see everything that happens as it happens?" she asked in a shaky voice.

"Yeah," Alex replied. "Well… not everything. But all the things that matter."

He had spent the better part of the day figuring how to rig up as many computers as possible so that he could use all the screens. There had been two in the UFO Center, one from the Evans home and another from Philip Evans' office, an old one Tess had shoved at him and said used to belong to Jim, and one from his own house. That was five computer screens. Not enough to see all the rooms at once, and he had not figured out how to generate more than one image onto the computer screen.

But if they rotated through the various rooms, it should be enough.

He hoped.

"Can you… I mean… can we see Michael yet?" Maria asked tentatively.

Alex shook his head. "He's outside the compound," he replied. "But when he gets back, we'll see him…" he paused and looked at each of the screens for a moment, trying to remember the details of the plan, then pointed to one of them, "…on that screen."

Maria nodded. "And Liz?"

"She's right there," Alex answered, pointing to another screen. She had started inside the compound, and was waiting for the skins to come to her.

Maria rubbed her eyes. "They know it is a trap, now. We've used up the element of surprise. Do you think it was enough?"

Alex was about to answer when a new voice spoke up, one that sent chills down his spine.

"I wouldn't worry about _that_, Maria. You'll find that there are a few more surprises Khivar doesn't know about quite yet."

Alex spun around and reacted without thinking. One hand reached for Maria, and he yanked her abruptly to her feet and shoved her behind him as though he could offer some protection. The other hand grabbed the nearest weapon – a stapler – and raised it into the air.

Courtney stared at him coolly, eyebrows raised. "A stapler? _Really_?"

"Let go of me," Maria hissed at Alex, wrenching her arm from his grip. "I'm not some damsel in distress, I don't need to be protected." And she stepped around Alex, her eyes blazing with rage as she approached Courtney. "I thought part of the deal was that we let you live as long as you _didn't_ come back."

Courtney's lips turned up into a thin smile. "And what are you going to do about it?" she sneered. "Do you really think I'm afraid of you?" As she spoke, she lifted one hand idly, conjuring a ball of white energy that hovered just above her palm.

"_Murderer_! Have you come back to _gloat_?" Maria spat when she saw the energy, when she heard the clear threat in Courtney's words. Her entire body was shaking with pent-up rage, and for a moment Alex was terrified that she might actually attack the blonde. But thought Maria was furious, she wasn't suicidal.

She didn't move any closer.

"What do you want?" Alex demanded.

Courtney looked at him, then looked past him at the computer screen. "Just to know where the battle is taking place." Her eyes narrowed. "Interesting choice of location," she commented dryly.

"How did you even know we were fighting tonight?" Alex demanded.

She gave him an enigmatic smile. "I have my ways." She stared down at her raised hand, then slowly curled her fingers into a fist, causing the ball of energy to dissipate. "I knew the skins were on the move, and Khivar had gone with them. _That_ could only mean one thing."

"And you expect us to believe that you're going to go fight?" Maria asked bitterly.

Courtney gave her a cold glare. "I don't care what you believe," she said callously. "I have the information I need," and she nodded her head towards the computer screens, "so that is really all I care about."

"And which side are you on?" Alex asked softly. "Ours, or _his_?"

"I want Khivar dead," Courtney answered flatly. "I never lied about _that_."

"Just everything else," Maria said in disgust.

"So you'll kill Khivar," Alex said, his voice trembling with anger, "and to hell with anyone who stands in your way? Sheriff Valenti was just collateral damage, and my death would have meant nothing to you?" He paused, but Courtney simply stared at him, neither confirming nor refuting his claims. "And if we tried to stop you now, would you kill us, too?"

"Yes," she said bluntly.

Alex flinched.

"Is this interrogation over?" Courtney added. "Because I have other things to do."

"Don't you care about anyone else _at all_?" Alex demanded, taking a step forward. "Don't you care about the lives you ruin? Don't you care about the pain you cause?"

He thought he had made his peace with what had happened, what Courtney had done to him. He thought he had moved on. The group had been so fractured, completely torn apart by what Courtney had done, and he had told himself almost immediately that he couldn't let her destroy what was left of his life. She'd taken away so much, and he had resolved to move past it.

And he thought he had. While Isabel's voice filled with venom whenever she spoke of Courtney, while Tess' eyes grew dark with hatred whenever the rebel skin was mentioned, while Max's expression became haunted, while Liz fled to the other side of the country…

He had forced himself to push past the pain and the grief and the _what ifs_.

And now Courtney was standing before him, casually dismissing everything she had done as though it didn't even matter, and he felt his calm exterior cracking.

Courtney gazed at him for a long moment, then shrugged. "Why should I care?"

"Because we're people, too! Because we never did anything to you! Because we were innocent. Jim Valenti didn't deserve…" Alex started, practically yelling at her.

"Innocent?" Courtney interrupted, her face flushed with fury. Her words were hard, and her voice was raised in anger. "Innocent? What does _innocence_ have to do with anything? What does it matter what you do or do not _deserve_? This is a war! People are dying, lives are lost. And you talk about this like you have suffered the worst, but you've only been involved in this for a little over two years. We've been fighting for decades. _Our_ lives have been ruined, _our_ families have been destroyed. We are the ones who have suffered the most, and we didn't want it. We didn't ask for a civil war. We didn't ask for Khivar and Zan to want to kill each other! It just happened, and now I want to end it. And if I have to kill people to do it, then I will kill them. I will lie and cheat and do whatever I have to. But I will make sure that this _ends_, because it has already been going on for too long, and it has already cost us too much!"

And she turned and stormed from the UFO Center.

Alex stumbled backwards and sank into his chair again, and Maria came to his side. For a moment they were both silent, then Maria reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

He lifted his face towards her and smiled weakly. Then he tapped the earpiece he was wearing, connecting with the others.

"Guys?"

There was a pause, and the sound of crackling static passing through the device.

"Yeah?" he heard Max answer.

"You're going to have company," Alex said wearily. "Courtney is on her way."

* * *

_Ava woke groggily, aware first of the throbbing pain in her head and then of the feeling of the cold floor against her skin. There was a brief moment of panic as the memory of what had happened crashed into her, but she forced her emotions under control and lifted her head._

_She was lying on the marble floor of a partially-destroyed room. A large wooden table had been shattered into pieces that were strewn across the floor. The far wall had several windows on it, and the white curtains of were mostly burned. The ceiling above them was blackened with soot and ash and was oddly broken in places. The air was hot, but there was no sign of fire._

_There were bodies on the floor. Several soldiers she recognized as members of Rath's inner guard, those who were charged with protecting the Royal Four at all costs. They were dead now, their lifeless eyes gazing up at the ceiling. Blood seeped into the floor, spreading out in circles, and she was suddenly aware of the scent of burnt flesh in the air._

_She felt sick._

_Zan was standing opposite her._

_He was alive and apparently relatively unharmed. There was some blood on his clothing, but she didn't think it was his. There was a dark blue bruise forming at his jaw and the indentation of fingerprints on his throat. But he was standing, alive and breathing, and that was more than could be said for the bodies on the ground._

_She looked down at the floor between them and saw the insignia of the Royal Four carved into the floor. That was the only indication that this room – now in ruins, now so unrecognizable that it seemed almost as though it had been deliberately destroyed – had been the Council Room._

"_It is a pity to destroy something so beautiful," a voice said, and Ava gave up all pretense of still being unconscious by pulling herself to her hands and knees and turning to face the person who was speaking._

_It was Khivar._

_He was not looking at her, nor was he looking at Zan. His gaze swept over the room with a strangely scrutinizing expression. Nicolas stood behind him, and a tight circle of soldiers formed an outer ring near the edges of the room._

_She looked back at Zan. He was alone._

_And unarmed._

"_Beauty should not be so easily dismissed," Khivar continued, and for a moment he paused and looked at her, a thin smile on his lips. "Particularly not when so much time and effort has gone into making it."_

_She crawled to her feet, and suddenly Zan was by her side, pulling her towards him. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders protectively, and had it been possible, she was sure he would have tried to shield her somehow. But they were surrounded, and there was nothing he could do._

"_But this room is the physical representation of your power," Khivar said, "and I simply couldn't let it stand. This is my palace now, after all, and I want no remnants of the Royal Four left behind."_

"_Where is Rath?" Ava asked abruptly, her voice shaking. Her eyes darted past Khivar towards Nicolas._

"_Dead," Nicolas said bluntly._

_She inhaled sharply, but Zan made no movement, gave no indication of surprise. He appeared to already know, and she wondered what else Khivar had taunted him with before she awoke._

_Everything hurt. She wasn't sure how badly she had been injured, but she could feel the aches and pains spreading through her body. Tears stung in her eyes and she tasted blood in her mouth. It was over. It was all over, and there was no way out now._

_The fear turned to rage suddenly, far faster than she had thought it possibly could. She shoved Zan away from her and lunged forward, the sudden movement sending a sharp pain rushing up both her legs. But she ignored it, intent only on hurting Khivar and Nicolas, on causing them the same amount of pain that they had caused her._

_She noticed with vague satisfaction that Nicolas' nose was broken from where her elbow had collided with his face._

_She was about halfway to Khivar when Zan screamed out her name, and she was all the way to her target by the time the soldiers around them realized what she was doing. The fury coalesced in her chest and spilled out into her palms and she didn't know what she was doing or how she was doing it. All she knew was that the energy and heat was pouring out of her, and as her fingers latched on to Khivar's throat, he cried out in pain._

_He tore her off of him, batting her aside as though she was nothing. She hit the ground hard, but rolled over immediately and looked up. There were dark burns on Khivar's throat._

_Zan ran forward, but Khivar turned around and flung out one arm, shoving Zan away. The alien king was only barely able to conjure a force-field to repel the blow, and he stumbled backwards under the pressure of the attack. The blue wall of energy protecting him flickered, but held strong. It wrapped around him, then, circling him completely and protecting him from all sides._

_Khivar stepped forward and grabbed Ava's arm, yanking her to her feet. His eyes raked over her once, and he said with a smirk, "Like I said, it is a pity to destroy something so beautiful."_

"_Let go of her!" Zan snarled._

_She twisted her head and looked at him. She could see the raw fear in his eyes, as well as the realization that he was helpless. He could not reach her without lowering his shield, but if he allowed that protection to drop, Khivar would be able to attack again, and he would be helpless to stop it._

_He couldn't protect her._

_It was all over._

"_How does it feel, mighty King," Khivar mocked, "to be unable to protect even your own wife?"_

"_If you hurt her I will _kill_ you," Zan spat._

"_Will you? Really?" Khivar asked with a laugh. He shoved Ava suddenly, and she fell backwards. She was caught deftly by Nicolas, who had at some point drawn closer to all of them._

"_That was quite a clever trick, Ava, getting your father out of that room," Nicolas murmured. "But tell me, why did you not save Rath instead? Your father was old and sick… his life was worthless anyway."_

"_Do not speak of my father like that!" she hissed._

"_And now Rath is dead," Nicolas continued as though he had not heard her. "It was enjoyable to kill him, of course. I enjoyed it much more than I would have cared for killing your father. So I really cannot complain about your choice, but still… it _is_ interesting."_

_She tried to ignored the implied meaning behind his words, that she had somehow sentenced Rath to death. She had chosen to save her father instead of Rath, but Rath was young and strong and could fight, and her father was old and weak and…_

_The guilt was starting to form in her stomach, a leaden weight that she could not avoid. Rath was dead, and her father was alive, but it was not her fault._

_After all, it was Nicolas who had killed him._

_She did not see Zan move, nor did she register that sphere of energy that struck Nicolas in the chest until he had released her and they were both falling to the ground. She landed partially on top of him and rolled over to her side, kicking at him, trying to get away. He was too stunned to notice that she was escaping, and she scrambled to her feet and looked over at Zan._

_He had obviously attacked both Khivar and Nicolas, although she was unaware of what he had done. Khivar was on his hands and knees, and Nicolas was sprawled on the floor, but Zan was struggling, too. The soldiers had attacked, the circling closing in around the alien king, and the force-field could not protect against all of them. She darted forward, trying to reach him, but a pair of arms encircled her._

"_Enough!"_

_Khivar's voice rang through the room, and the soldiers froze instantly, then after a brief pause moved back to their places at the perimeter. Zan was on the floor, bloody and battered, his face bruised, blood dampening his shirt.. Ava struggled to reach him, but Khivar held her too tightly._

"_I grow tired of this," Khivar said. "It is time for our little war to end."_

"_Let her go…" Zan tried again._

"_No," Khivar said casually, "I do not think I will. Say goodbye to your wife, Zan."_

_The last thing Ava saw was Zan leaping to his feet and screaming her name, and then the world went black._

* * *

They came into the room quickly, running. Their feet slapped against the ground, and they made no attempt at all to be silent, to stay hidden. The sound of them moving was the only thing that gave Tess any warning of the sudden arrival of their enemies in the place where she was hiding, but even that warning did little good.

They were far outnumbered.

She knew this compound, had spent time in it when rescuing Isabel from Nicolas' clutches. It was familiar to her, and it was filled with so many emotionally-fraught memories. After all, it was the first time since coming to Roswell that she had ever done anything so dangerous on her own. Without Max and Michael to back her up.

And so on top of those memories, she was now facing a new set of fears.

There were several skins, perhaps twelve, and they rushed in without any hesitation whatsoever. They were battered and bruised from Michael's trick with the rocks, but that did not slow them down. The war had started, and there was no going back.

The room was large and long, almost like a hall of some sort. There was a window at one end that ran the entire length of the wall, and through it, she could see the stars overhead, and the few gray clouds that drifted across the night sky. There were two doors on another wall, and then the main set of doors at the front of the room. There were tables in the center of the room, and bookcases along the walls, and shadows that covered all the corners.

It was one of those shadows that was half-protecting Tess from view.

The skins fanned out, and one of them caught a glimpse of her and moved forward to investigate.

Her stomach tightened painfully.

Guerrilla warfare, Ahab had said. Surprise attacks. Only a few Royalists in each room, and some patrolling the hallways. Let the skins come to them, let them walk into danger. And then fight back.

"Well, well, well…" a voice said coolly. "If it isn't the Queen. Khivar will be pleased to see you."

Tess lifted wide blue eyes and stared at the skin approaching. His comment had brought the attention of his companions, and they were all moving towards her.

Tess drew a breath. She knew what the others had asked her to do. It was why this particular room was chosen. It was enough on the outskirts of the compound that any fire here, even one that spun out of control, would not spread too quickly to the rest of the compound. But it was still close enough to the entrance that the skins would pass near here to get to the others. Which meant that they would waste precious time having to put our her fire.

If she succeeded.

She had only ever done this once, and it had been more an instinctual reaction to fear than anything else.

There were three Royalists in the room, protecting her. One of them – she couldn't remember his name, and wasn't that so completely wrong given that he had promised to die in order to keep her alive? – darted forward and attacked, flinging out both hands and sending a wave of energy from his palms. The room seemed to ripple with the power, the air crackling with electricity.

The skin who had spoken spun around and raised a hand, conjuring a shield, as did several others. But a few of the skins weren't fast enough, and they fell to the ground, one of them even exploding as his husk shattered.

"Hurry!" the Royalist yelled at Tess as he stumbled to his knees, the attack draining his energy.

She thought of Kyle. She reached back into her memories and pulled that one to the surface. Kyle, lying on the sofa in the pocket realm, his mind dissolving before her very eyes. Dying. And when she had faced the skins moments later, when all of her emotions had burst from her and she had completely lost control…

She focused on that. On the feeling of fear, of fury, of desperation. On the sensation of her powers spinning away from her, twisting and turning until she could not stop them, could do nothing but let their energy flow from her and take its own form.

And the room erupted into fire.

It rushed forward, spreading out from Tess' hiding place. The shadows in the room were suddenly gone as the glow of the flames illuminated everything. And even the flickering shields could not protect against the onslaught of flames. The fire consumed everything it touched, surrounding the skins and burning them. Destroying them.

Tess groaned and dropped to her knees. Her head felt as though it would explode at any second. The first time she had conjured the fire, she had done it purely on instinct, and though it left her groggy and dizzy, it had not drained her quite like this. But this time was different. This time the fire was far bigger and more powerful than what she had conjured before.

Her vision was blurring and everything just _hurt_.

She could feel the three Royalists feeding their strength into her as she channeled her energy into the flames. They were giving her their own power to make the fire rage and burn.

The air filled with smoke. It stung her eyes and burnt her throat and made it hard to breath. She choked, gagging on the acrid scent and taste, and blinked away the tears that were forming in her eyes.

The fire had moved from the air to the surrounding walls. It was blazing, racing along the bookshelves and covering the desks. It spilled out of the room and into the hallway beyond. It was moving faster than a normal fire would, and it seemed to be burning hotter as well.

How many skins had she killed? All twelve?

And how many more would the fire consume before they stopped it?

She wasn't sure if she should be happy or guilt-ridden by the deaths. Maybe both…

"Come on," a voice whispered near Tess, and she felt arms wrap around her, pull her to her feet. She focused her attention on the face that swam into view in front of her. One of the Royalists. Green eyes, tan skin.

Patrick.

"Come on, your Majesty," Patrick repeated, dragging her towards the closest door. And Tess nodded and stumbled after him, racing into the narrow corridor beyond.

They had only to run a few steps before the air was clear again, and the smell of smoke was gone. It was still hot, but the fire was not coming towards them.

Tess slowed for a moment, caught her breath.

"That was impressive, your Majesty," Patrick said.

Tess nodded once to show that she heard the compliment, then glanced over her shoulders. "Where are the others?" she asked worriedly. There were two more Royalists in the room. Why weren't they following?

"They will stay behind," Patrick answered. "To fight any of the skins who get through the fire."

"But… but… they're outnumbered," Tess protested weakly, shaking her head. "They can't… they won't…"

She looked again at Patrick, and saw the resignation in his eyes. He had long since accepted what she was still struggling to understand, that many of the Royalists would die in this battle, and that they not only knew that, but that they had agreed to it.

It wasn't right. Every part of her rebelled against the idea of people knowingly laying down their lives to keep her safe. Hadn't she already gotten enough people killed?

"Come," Patrick said, and turned away from her. He continued walking down the hall, and Tess could do nothing else but hurry to keep up.

* * *

Next Chapter: War (part three)

Due: Sun 5/1 (or sooner)


	36. War part three

Chapter Thirty-Six: War (part three)

_Everyone's counting on you  
Save for yourself what to do  
Life is a card that you lay down sometimes_

"Do you hear that?"

Max jumped at Isabel's whisper and glanced towards his sister. Her eyes were wide and he could see the raw fear on her face. There were footsteps on the stairs, soft and rapid. Approaching skins. But the air was warmer than it had been moments ago, indication of Tess' success with the fire. And the rumbling of the ground that had occurred before that had clearly showed that Michael's avalanche had worked.

So how many skins were left?

Before he could think of that, though, Alex's voice was whispering to him through the crackling of his earpiece.

"Guys?"

"Yeah?" Max replied, his eyes still focused on the door, his attention on sound of footsteps, on the approaching skins.

"You're going to have company." There was a weariness in Alex's tone that Max didn't like, and a hesitation as though he was slightly afraid of what he was going to say. "Courtney is on her way."

Max's gaze moved towards Isabel, and he saw the horror in her expression. Then he felt Liz's fingers wrapping around his wrist for a brief moment as her voice whispered in his ear, "Oh, God, Max… why?"

But he couldn't answer because the door swung open and the skins came bursting into the room, swarming through the doorway like ants. Max had only a moment to see the fear in Isabel's eyes grow into wild panic before he was turning around to face the oncoming enemy, his arms outstretched. The burst of energy that exploded from his palms illuminated the large room, but little damage. The attack was easily absorbed the first row of skins who conjured shields to protect themselves and their enemies.

Still, the blinding light did temporarily stun the skins, and the Royalists around Max used that to their advantage. Two of the Royalists ran forward, throwing themselves towards their enemy. They were followed quickly be several others, and then Ahab was attacking as well. Max had only time to witness the fighting devolve into hand-to-hand combat and then a skin was in front of him, leering.

Rough hands grabbed at him, but he kicked out hard with one foot, catching the skin in the shins. The man fell over, and then Liz was there, slamming a metal pole into the skin's back and shattering his husk.

Above him, there was a flash of light, and the sound of something exploding, then tiny pieces of glass came raining down on him.

"Max, behind you!"

Isabel's panicked shout caused Max to turn and raise his shield, and instinctual movement that probably saved his life. The electricity hit his shield and forced him backwards, but did not break through the force-field. He stumbled, though, and nearly fell into the wall at his back.

The skin advanced, green sparks shooting up and down his arm, dots of light swirling around his closed fist. He raised his hand and slammed his fist into Max's shield and the entire thing evaporated into air.

"Get away from him!" Liz suddenly screamed, coming out of nowhere and raking her nails along the skins' face. He cried out, shocked, as she peeled away dry skin, and was unprepared for her to proceed to punch him in the jaw.

He stepped back, and Max took that opportunity to place his palm against the skin's chest, and a moment later his entire body exploded into pieces of dead skin.

Max looked down at his hand, unsure exactly what he had done. His palm was glowing.

"How did you…?" Liz started, and then stopped as she caught sight of the skin on her hands and stuck under her fingernails. Her expression turned from one of wonder to one of disgust.

But there wasn't time to think about any of this, and Max turned back towards the others. There was chaos everywhere, and the sound of fighting nearly deafened him.

Max had lost track of Isabel, and he scanned the room for her. But before he could locate his sister, another skin was coming towards him, and then another and another and another. He ducked a blast and a bookshelf to his right was torn apart, fragments of wood falling to the floor. Waving his hand at them, he telekinetically lifted the shards into the air and sent them spiraling towards the skins. One managed to pierce a skin's husk, but the others were easily deflected.

A pair of hands grabbed at him and he tore himself away, spinning to face his new attacker. But Liz was already there, hitting the skin repeatedly with her metal pole, until finally his husk cracked. Another skin came up behind her and grabbed her by the shoulder, spinning her around and placing his hands on her head. She started screaming in pain, her body shaking and writhing as the skin's fingers glowed, and Max felt a surge of rage and fear and threw himself at the enemy, knocking him away from Liz.

They both went tumbling, falling into the middle of the fight and rolling on the broken glass and wood. Max rolled over and punched the skin in the nose. The skin retaliated by tossing him side with ease, and Max barely had time to register that he was being thrown into the air before he hit the wall and slid to his hands and knees.

He looked up in time to see Ahab break the skin's husk. The Royalist nodded to him briefly, then spun and faced the next skin. He was fighting without pause, without even the slightest bit of hesitation. His hands were constantly glowing as energy and electricity jumped from him and hurtled towards the skins.

The dark red stain on his own shirt sleeve caught Max's attention, and he looked down with a frown, watching as it spread. He hadn't even realized he'd been injured, the adrenaline from the fight preventing him from feeling pain.

Then Liz pulled him to his feet and the two of them turned to face the next enemy.

To his right, he saw Kristalia exchanging blows with several skins. She was surrounded on all four sides, but this did not seem to bother her or even slow her down. She hit the first skin in the throat, momentarily closing his windpipe, and he dropped to his hands and knees on the ground. The second one grabbed her arm and she turned and kicked at him, forcing him to let go of her. He retaliated by throwing her to the ground, but as she fell, she flung out both arms and tripped the three standing skins, bringing them down with her. Then she grabbed a piece of broken wood and shattered the first skin's husk, knocked the next once over and threw an ball of white light at him, causing him to explode, kicked the third one away from her, and shoved her wooden stake into the chest of the last one.

He realized vaguely that if Kristalia was here it meant that Michael and the other Royalists who had created the avalanche had come inside as well, and where somewhere in the compound.

He had to find Michael.

"Max!"

Isabel was screaming his name and he turned, moving away from Kristalia, trying to find her sister. A blast of energy seemed to appear out of nowhere and hit him directly in the chest, and he topped over and crashed to the floor. He heard Isabel scream again, and then the sound of callous laughter echoed in his ears. Something shattered, and the ground shook, and there was a cry of pain.

He pulled himself back to his feet. He still couldn't find Isabel and now Liz was separated from him as well. Darkness was creeping into his vision and he felt a wave of nausea and then dizziness. But he blinked rapidly, forcing his vision to clear, and started shoving his way through the mass of people tangled in combat.

He finally caught sight of Isabel, and felt his heart jump into his throat. She was fighting off three skins that had her surrounded, and she was clearly losing.

Then Liz was there as well, repeatedly beating one of the skins with her metal pole. Her shirt was spotted with blood and she had bruises on her arm.

Max didn't hesitate. He raced forward and grabbed one of the skins, trying to free Isabel from her attackers. In the center of the fight now, he could see what had not been clear from the edges of the room; the skins were not the only ones dying.

There were several Royalists on the ground, their bloodied bodies sprawled at odd angles. There was a girl with blue streaks in her hair and an older man with lifeless green eyes and two teenage boys with blood mixed into their hair and a woman with blood on her shirt. And he could see other bodies beyond that, obscured by the fighting skins and Royalists. He could see limbs sticking out at odd angles and could quite abruptly smell blood in the air.

He didn't even know most of their names, but they had died to protect him, and he felt guilt and grief suddenly crashing into him.

A cry from Isabel had him turning back towards her, and he watched in horror as she was suddenly knocked over. She fell, her head slamming against the ground, and was too stunned to move. Liz dropped to her knees beside the fallen hybrid, trying to shield her, but there were too many skins and they were outnumbered.

Max felt a fury burst from him. It turned his vision red and caused power to fly from his hands and overwhelm the skins near Isabel. They were destroyed almost immediately, disintegrating before they had a chance to protect themselves.

He ran to Isabel.

Her eyes were closed and there was blood on the ground beneath her head, and blood on Liz's hands and arms as well. Max reached out to heal her, but her eyes wouldn't open and he couldn't make the connection. And then Liz was looking past Max, her eyes widening in terror, and the shout of warning barely left her lips as Max twisted around and saw several skins descending on him.

He raised his hands to conjure a shield, but even as he did so, he knew it wouldn't be enough to protect them.

The attack never reached them. Kristalia appeared abruptly, efficiently dispatching of one of the skins with a firm blow to the back that cracked the husk's seal. She spun around gracefully and killed the next with a burst of green energy that fizzled in the air.

But she was outnumbered – too outnumbered – and before Max's eyes, she fell to her knees, blood spreading out across her chest from a wound she could not block. Another blow knocked her forward, and she threw out her hands to break her fall. Her hair – red, fiery – fell in front of her eyes, but Max still held her gaze, feeling horror, feeling grief. He didn't even _like_ Kristalia, but she was dying in front of him and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

"Go!" she said, choking on blood that coated her lips, "Find Michael and Tess. _Go_."

And Max lifted Isabel into his arms and, with Liz at his side, ran from the room.

* * *

"_Say goodbye to your wife, Zan."_

_He was bloody and battered, but the physical pain meant nothing at all to him. Those words, Khivar's cold, mocking comment, echoed in the room, and before the last syllable had left his enemy's lips, Zan had launched himself to his feet, ready to attack._

"_No! _Ava_!" The word tore from his lips as he charged forward. He watched Ava struggled in Khivar's grip, saw the momentary look of fear flash through her eyes, and then saw something even worse._

_Resignation._

_It was only a split-second, a look that travelled through her eyes so quickly anyone else might have missed it. But he saw it, and he knew that, in that moment, she had realized and accepted the inevitable. She was going to die._

_And then her body was falling lifelessly to the ground._

_He did not hesitate. He did not think. He acted, his body moving of its own accord. He could not stop the fury that welled up inside of him. Rath was already dead, and now Ava, too. Because of Khivar, because of his thirst for power and need for control. The planet was falling to pieces, the warring factions at each other's throats, and now…_

_Ava was dead._

_His hand connected with Khivar's face. His fingers were curled into a fist, and the force of the blow caused Khivar to stumble back a few steps. Surprise appeared on the usurper's face; he had clearly not been expecting anything quite so pedestrian as a physical punch. But Zan did not hesitate, did not stop. His knuckles had split and his hand was smeared with blood – his and Khivar's – but none of it mattered because…_

_Ava was dead._

_Rath was dead._

_And Lonnie…_

_He didn't think about it. Couldn't think about it. Couldn't think about _her_._

_He grabbed Khivar by the collar of his shirt and yanked him to his feet. Khivar stumbled and reached up, his own fingers closing tightly around Zan's wrists, biting into his skin. Nicolas was at his side and the other skins were closing in and it was a loosing battle._

_Zan knew that._

_But he wasn't going without a fight._

_The remnants of the wooden table lay scattered at his feet, and the insignia of the Royal Four only barely stood out among the ash and soot. The fire had burned away everything – including the inner guard, their faces frozen in looks of horror and helpless anguish, their bodies sprawled about as a testament to their last, futile attempt to protect their King – and all that was left was a feeling of desperation that lingered in the air._

_Zan's hands began to glow with a bright white light, and Khivar screamed in agony and tore loose from his opponent's grip. Something hit Zan from behind and he fell to his knees, stars bursting into his vision. Something else hit him, and then again and again, and he was lying on the ground, vaguely aware of the soldiers gathered all around him. His eyes stung with tears, and blood dripped down from a long gash running across his forehead and he didn't even remember where the wound had come from._

_But none of it mattered._

_Khivar loomed over him. He was battered, too, and bruised as well. But he was triumphant, and his eyes shone with vicious glee. He hadn't killed Zan yet, and though this fight was causing him some pain, he seemed to be enjoying it._

_Just as he had enjoyed taunting Zan earlier, telling him of Rath's death and Lonnie's betrayal. And killing his guards, destroying them with ease and disinterest, as though they were nothing, as though their lives were unimportant._

"_Murderer!" Zan spat. His fingers curled around a few loose pieces of rubble and he threw them at Khivar, but Khivar simply laughed and dodged them, easily stepping aside. Then, in retaliation, he raised his hand and telekinetically flung Zan across the room. The King hit the far wall, his breath rushing from him, his head slamming backwards with a sickening crack._

_For a moment, his vision turned dark._

_Then he blinked and cleared his eyes. He could barely breath, the pressure on him was too much. He gasped and choked, and now Nicolas as laughing as well, a maniacal sound that sent shivers down Zan's spine. He looked away from Nicolas, and his eyes fell on Ava's lifeless body._

_The anger exploded out of him. He did not mean for it to happen, but it did. The walls reverberated with the force of his power, and several of Khivar's soldiers were knocked to their knees. The Four Square insignia began to glow and he gaped at it. He could hardly breath at all and he felt drained, as though all his energy had been sapped from him, but the insignia was _glowing_…_

_He had commissioned it, had it carved into the floor the day after his coronation. It was supposed to represent his power, power that came only from his links to the other three. But those links had been broken by betrayal and death, and now it seemed nothing at all was left._

"_Stop it!" Khivar screamed. "_Stop it_!"_

_Zan didn't know what was happening or what he was supposed to stop, but the hold on him was suddenly gone and he crumpled to the floor. His legs gave out completely, and he lay there for a moment, bewildered and stunned._

_Then he forced himself to raise his head and he saw Nicolas and several of the soldiers clutching their heads and crying, screaming, shrieking, crawling around on their hands and knees._

_Then Khivar was standing over him again. His face was pale and wan, his eyes were filled with pain and fury, and he had one hand extended outwards, towards his enemy._

"_Goodbye, Zan," he said, and his fingertips glowed a bright orange, and everything erupted into pain._

_And then it was over._

* * *

"Hello, Liz."

The cool voice sent shivers down Liz's spine and she spun around to stare in disbelief. She had heard Alex's warning and knew that Courtney was here, but somehow she hadn't expected to see her in the compound. Her anger overcame everything else she was feeling, and she lifted her hand and sent Courtney flying.

They were in a long hallway, separated from most of the fighting, and Courtney smashed into the opposite wall and slid to the floor, surprise on her features.

Liz looked down at her hand in shock. There were sparks of green light dancing around her fingers and she felt an energy crackling underneath her skin, filling her entire body with heat. It was feeding on her rage and her fury.

"Liz!"

Max looked back at her, his mouth falling open. Isabel was still unconscious in his arms, and his gaze was jumping back and forth between Liz and her sudden increase in power and Courtney sprawled on the opposite side of the hall.

The blonde lifted an eyebrow and smirked at Liz. "Well… that was unexpected."

"What are you doing here?" Liz demanded.

"I'm fighting," Courtney replied coolly. "Or have you not noticed that we're at war?"

"You're not on our side," Max spat.

"I want Khivar dead. You want Khivar dead. The enemy of my enemy…"

"How did you know we were fighting now?" Max demanded. "Have you been watching us? How did you know to go to Alex and ask where we were?"

"Hardly," Courtney said. "I was able to regain Khivar's trust, at least somewhat. Not enough that he would tell me where this battle was, but enough that I knew approximately when it was to happen. I'm happy I didn't miss it."

"How did you gain Khivar's trust? Who did you have to betray besides us?"

"No one you'd care about, I assure you," Courtney answered with an icy smile. Liz glared at her, and Courtney laughed lightly and continued, "So I may have implied that I'd killed Nasedo. Well… it hardly makes a difference. Khivar has him, so he's of no threat to you anymore. Now…" Her eyes moved past Liz and settled on Isabel's still form, "You have a Princess to heal, two other Royals to find, and a skin king to kill. I suggest you focus on that."

And without waiting for a response, she turned and hurried away from them, towards the battle happening in the room beyond.

* * *

"Liz, lock the door," Max said tensely. They had taken refuse in one of the many small rooms attached to the long hallway. It wasn't safe to stay here for too long. Ahab had explained that they needed to avoid these rooms because there was only one entrance and exit to them, which meant it would be easy to get cornered.

But it was also the safest place he had at the moment, and he needed that temporary safety to heal Isabel.

He placed his sister on the ground and watched as Liz locked the door. The lock wouldn't do much against the skins, who would no doubt simply blast the door off its hinges if they suspected that Max was here. But he couldn't think about that.

Just like he couldn't think about the fact that Courtney was here, that Nasedo had been alive all this time and they hadn't know it.

Just like he couldn't think about the fact that Liz had _blasted_ the blonde skin, that she had somehow accessed alien powers they didn't realize she even had.

Just like he couldn't think about the fact that Kristalia was dead.

"Isabel," he murmured, "Isabel… come on. Look at me. Look at me."

Isabel moaned and her eyelids flickered, but her eyes did not open. He reached out and took her hand, linking their fingers, trying to push his own strength into her. He had no idea exactly what he was doing or how he was doing it, but the warmth in his hands steadily increased.

Isabel opened her eyes.

They were clouded with pain, but they were open and coherent and Max quickly placed on hand on her head and the other on her chest and felt relief wash through him at the familiar surge of his healing power.

After a moment, Isabel started coughing. Then she rolled over onto her side and crawled to her hands and knees. "I'm okay," she murmured, blinking rapidly. "Thanks, I…" Then she paused and trailed off, looking around in confusion. "What happened? Is the battle over?"

"Not at all," Max answered. "You were injured. But you're better now, and we need to find Michael and Tess." He hesitated, knowing what came next, knowing what they really had to do, and not wanting to say it aloud. But there was no denying the inevitable. This was the reason they were here, after all. "And we need to find Khivar."

Liz closed her eyes briefly at those words, and when she looked at him again, he saw his own panic reflected in her gaze.

Isabel struggled to her feet. "Okay," she said. "Okay…"

"Courtney's here," Max added quietly, knowing that he needed to tell Isabel this, that she needed some kind of warning in case she saw the rebel skin.

Isabel stiffened, then nodded. "Alex said she would be," she answered, her voice flat.

Max ran a hand through his hair.

It was too much to even begin to comprehend. Courtney was there, in the battle, and they had no idea what side she was on. Her treatment of Jim and Alex… and Nasedo… made it clear that she cared only about defeating Khivar. So they couldn't trust her, couldn't trust that she wouldn't hurt them without hesitation if it suited her needs. But she also wanted Khivar dead, and so did they, and didn't that make them on the same side?

He couldn't dwell on this now. Courtney was here, and nothing would change that, and he would keep an eye on her if they crossed paths again. He'd kill her if he had to. He already had so much blood on his hands, so many lives lost because of him, so what did it matter if he added one more?

That thought made left him feeling sick, but they were at war, and he didn't have time to think about it.

He unlocked the door and led his sister and his girlfriend back into the hallway.

The entire building was vibrating with the noise and commotion of the battle. It was everywhere, and the air smelled like blood and sweat, and the feeling of nausea in Max's stomach increased.

"Come on," Liz whispered, her voice sounding strangely far away, and pushed past him. They hurried along the hallway in silence, tense and fearful. The avalanche and the fire were both over, and the element of surprise had been used up. Now they were on their own, now they had no more tricks. It would be a battle, a long and arduous fight. There was no other way to end this.

Max stopped suddenly, feeling something pull at the edge of his consciousness. He paused, eyes scanning the hallway quickly, alert and prepared for anything.

Then they all heard it. Footsteps.

Max spun around as the door behind them was blasted open and Michael and Tess emerged from another corridor. Relief washed through the hybrid king to see both of them relatively unscathed. Michael came skidding to a stop as he saw them, his eyes narrowing, focusing on the sight of the blood in Isabel's hair. Tess followed his gaze, and her own expression changed to one of concern.

"I'm fine," Isabel said quickly. "Max healed me."

But the blood was still there, a reminder of how close she had come to dying.

"Then we had better find Khivar," Michael said warily, looking unsure. As though he wanted to tell Isabel to sit this one out, to let someone else handle it. But they didn't have that option, and there was no way to get reprieve from the fighting.

"It's worked so far," Liz said quietly. "Everything we've done… the rocks, the fire…"

"Yes," Tess said unemotionally. "We've succeeded at killing people."

Max blanched and looked away. "So have they," he muttered, thinking of Kristalia. Of her fire-engine red hair and her furious eyes and her fierce disdain for all of them.

And now she was dead.

How many more would follow?

"Let's go," Max said with a sigh and turned away from them, back towards the sounds of the battle. The compound was a labyrinth of corridors, each of them containing rooms where skins could be hiding, waiting to jump out and attack. But they went relatively unnoticed, and the others followed as Max led them through the long hallway and down a staircase into another set of rooms.

It was chaos everywhere.

The doors had been torn off their hinges and cast aside, and the windows shattered. The room was covered in rubble, and there were skins crawling over the broken furniture and piles of rocks, fighting with each other. It was messy and frenzied and everyone seemed to blend together into a writhing mob.

Michael and Tess were both already on the offensive, darting in front of Max and Liz and allowing themselves to be pulled into the fray in order to protect their friends. It was hard to tell ally from enemy in the crushing disarray, and Max knew Khivar wouldn't be here, but they still had to fight.

There were far more people than Max had thought possible, and it was skins fighting skins, and that didn't make any sense until…

"The rebel skins have arrived!" a voice said, and Max whirled around to see Patrick standing there, smiling.

"The rebel skins?" Max breathed. "You mean… Courtney brought her faction?"

Patrick looked at him, blinking in confusion. "The Lady Courtney is here?" he asked, bewildered. "No, she did not bring them. Ahab called them." A pause, then… "He didn't tell you?"

"No," Max said, but he didn't bother wondering about it. He would express his own outrage at Ahab for not telling him about this part of the plan, but that would happen later, and Ahab would no doubt have a response. Probably that he didn't think Max could be impartial, that he wasn't willing to trust people even if they could help him.

Well, he wasn't willing to trust the rebel skins. They might not all be like Courtney, but he wasn't taking any chances.

Then the crowd came tumbling towards him, and he was pulled into the fighting again.


	37. War part four

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to _Time After Time_. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Seven: War (part four)

_To search for the best way of all  
Is finding the best way to fall  
Keeping your head in the clear_

"This way! Michael, Michael! Come on…"

"Where's Max? Isabel, where's Max?"

"What the hell? You _lost_ him?"

"Michael!"

"Ahab? Have you seen…?"

"_Look out_!"

Something heavy collided with Isabel, knocking her out of the way. She looked up in time to see Patrick knock her out of the way of an attack, and then the wall exploded behind her, raining plaster and shards of brick down on all of them.

She scrambled to her feet and looked around. Liz was still frantically looking for Max in the chaos of the fighting and Michael was being pulled away from her, dragged by the sheer force of the crowded fighting. Her heart constricted painfully, and she felt sudden panic. The walls were closing in on her, and she couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

There was blood on her clothing.

She looked down, opening her mouth to call to Patrick, to tell him to get up, to ask him if he had seen Max, but the words froze, because there was blood spreading along his back and a large fragment of jagged brick sticking out of his skin.

He wasn't moving.

"Patrick!"

Isabel's head jerked up, her eyes widening at the sheer anguish in Lillian's voice as the Royalist stumbled towards her fallen husband. She reached out her hand, fingers hovering, trembling in midair above Patrick's still form. The expression on her face sent ice through Isabel's veins, and she tried to think of something to say. But Lillian was looking devastated, and there were no words.

Her expression reflected what Isabel knew she would feel if Alex had died.

"I… it happened so… so fast… and I…" Isabel stammered.

Lillian looked up, staring at Isabel as though not even seeing her. Then she shook her head, her expression hardening. "We're still fighting," she said, her voice breaking. "He's dead, but we're not. We're still fighting. So fight."

And then she turned and walked back into the fighting, and Isabel was left standing next to Patrick's dead body.

"Isabel," Isabel suddenly heard Maria's voice in her ear. "Max is by the door on the opposite side of the room. Liz is with him, and Tess is going that way, too."

For a moment, Isabel couldn't quite figure out what to do. She knew Maria could see everything on the computer monitors, she had to be right, but she couldn't see Max over there, couldn't see anything in the chaos…

Then she lifted her eyes and caught sight of a skin approaching, menace shining in her dark eyes. Everything seemed to slow down as the skin flung out her hands, and then a burst of energy spread outwards, expanding rapidly.

The woman was abruptly thrown away from Isabel, and the energy she had been conjuring spun out of control and then disappeared before it could harm anyone. The woman crashed to the ground, her eyes closing, and Isabel wasn't sure if she was dead or just unconscious.

Didn't really care, either.

Isabel turned as Michael came running towards her, grabbing her arm.

"Let's go!" he shouted at her, dragging her. "Come on!"

"Michael! Isabel!"

Tess and Liz were on the other side of the room, standing side-by-side, and Tess was frantically waving towards them. Max was already disappearing through the door behind them, following something or someone that Isabel couldn't see.

Isabel stumbled after them, Michael right behind her.

The desperate reality of the situation was slowly sinking in, and the panic that she had felt earlier was bubbling inside her chest, threatening to explode.

Fingers grasped her shirt, biting into her skin, and she spun around to face malicious blue eyes. "Well, well, well… if it isn't the Princess…" a voice whispered, and another skin was there, grabbing her arms and yanking her away from Michael.

Behind her, she heard Michael cry out her name, but her name turned into a guttural cry and she caught sight of him falling, grasping his head tightly, fingers woven into his hair. There was blood on his lips.

Isabel reached up and scratched her nails across her attackers face, drawing blood. The skin stumbled back and Isabel curled her hand into a fist and hit the other alien in the chest. Her hand was glowing with energy, an energy she wasn't even sure how she had conjured, and the skin exploded.

Just completely exploded, pieces of dry skin floating in the air.

Tess was there, pulling Michael to his feet, her fingers running over his temples, her eyes closed tightly as she used her powers to undo whatever had happened to him. It must have worked because Michael's eyes snapped open and he began gasping for air.

"Michael…?" Isabel whispered.

"I'm okay," he said, and then he grabbed her again and continued towards the door.

* * *

The hallway shook, and Isabel stumbled and fell against the wall. Max was ahead of them, running, his feet slapping against the ground, his face filled with concentration. He was clearly following someone, but Isabel had no idea what it was and she was too worried about the fighting anyway.

But Max _was_ following something.

"He's cracked," Michael whispered to Tess, his eyes on Max. Tess gave him an annoyed look, but Isabel couldn't help but agree with Michael's assessment.

What was Max doing?

"Shut up, Michael," Liz snapped.

The hallway shook again, and this time it was Tess who lost her footing and went skidding to the ground. She clambered back to her feet quickly, and Max paused long enough to look back and make sure she was okay, but they continued through the hallway without any more of a pause.

The air smelled like smoke and sweat and blood and Isabel's head was pounding painfully and the panic was still there and she couldn't figure out why Max was so sure that he was going the right way, that he was going to find the right room.

There was a blinding flash of light from up ahead, a burst of brilliant whiteness that momentarily blinded Isabel. She blinked several times, trying to force her eyes to work again. When she could properly see, her mouth dropped open in horror.

The entire front of the hallway had been destroyed, blown away. There was a gaping hole in the floor below them, and through it, Isabel could see another room filled with dead bodies. Someone below them had just caused a powerful enough explosion to kill everyone around them and destroy the standing structure.

"Oh my God…" Isabel breathed.

Max, who had been closest to the explosion, took a few steps backwards, his eyes wide with shock. "That was… That was it. That was _him_. He's down there."

"Khivar?"

Max nodded.

"There are stairs behind us," Michael said, turning towards a nearby door. "We can get down to the bottom floor. If he's still there…"

Max nodded. "Okay. Okay."

The stairway was small and cramped and narrow and exactly the sort of space Ahab had warned them to avoid. It was too easy to get trapped there, with no way out, no exit in case they needed to escape. But Isabel wasn't thinking about that, or about the dim lighting and the torn carpet on the stairs, or the staleness of the air.

She was thinking about Max, about the fact that he could somehow sense Khivar.

And she was thinking about the fact that she was starting to feel Khivar's power as well, that his familiar aura of energy was assaulting her senses, filling her with fear and anticipation for the confrontation that was to come.

She wasn't entirely sure what happened after that. Michael had her by the arm again, and she was being dragged out of the staircase and into the hallway, past more sounds of fighting and into a room littered with dead bodies. She could barely breathe, and the sight of so much death only made it worse.

And then she looked up, looked across the room, and saw Khivar.

* * *

_They were dead. All of them._

_She didn't know exactly how she knew it. She just did. Intuition, perhaps, or some sort of sixth sense, an instinct guiding her. It was vague and fuzzy and too difficult to explain, even to herself. But it did not change the knowledge that she now had, the realization that settled heavily in her chest._

_She knew they were dead._

_She stood at one end of the long corridor, staring blankly at nothing. To her left, the wall was lined with windows, and the black curtains that hung over these windows fluttered in the gentle breeze. She could smell smoke, but it was faint and almost unidentifiable. It floated into the corridor on the wind, drifting over from some other part of the palace._

_This part of the palace was intact. It was untouched by the fire and fury that Khivar had unleashed on the many other rooms and hallways. She closed her eyes for a moment and could picture the blood and the loss and destruction she had caused._

_They were dead. It was over._

_This couldn't be happening._

_She had not seen her brother since the previous day. She would never see him again._

_She'd sworn to him, weeks earlier, that she had nothing to do with Khivar any more. She had looked him in the eyes and promised that she had realized her errors, that she would always choose her family over this usurper who sought her brother's throne. She had promised her brother…_

_She had lied._

_Had it been a painful death?_

_She fell to her knees, suddenly too weak to stand. This couldn't be real. It was a nightmare, some horrible, twisted nightmare. She would wake up, and she would be safe, and it would all be a dream, and this knowledge she somehow had of their deaths… it would be false._

_But it wasn't a nightmare. It was real. She knew _that_, too._

_She'd been a fool to let Khivar in the gates, to believe his honeyed words, to keep the guards quiet and stop the alarm from being sounded until the attack was underway and it was too late…_

_Too late._

_In that moment, that split-second in which she had realized what was happening, in which she had stared at Khivar and seen a stranger looking back at her, she had understood. He'd lied to her._

_Tears burned her eyes. Hot, painful, salty. They slid down her cheeks and fell onto her dress, and she slowly lifted one hand as though to wipe them away. But her hand froze in midair, seeming to stop of her own accord, and she stared at her fingers. Her pale skin, adorned with a single ring, her nails painted red._

_It was strange. She felt an odd disconnect, as though the sound of fighting growing steadily closer did not bother her at all. And why would it? It couldn't be real. It just couldn't._

_They couldn't be dead._

_She continued to stare at her hand, mesmerized. She was in denial._

_Then, suddenly, she doubled over, pain exploding in her chest. For a moment, she thought she'd been attacked, and both hands moved to her chest automatically, searching for signs of injury, for blood. But there was nothing, and she realized the pain was not physical._

_It was guilt._

_Oh… God… she had done this._

_She had killed them._

_They were all dead._

_Ava. _

_Ava who was temperamental and fierce and completely unpredictable. Ava, who loved her brother deeply, and often hated him with just as much passion. Ava, who had never wanted to be a court ornament, who had viewed being a Queen as trivial. Ava, who laughed too easily and too often, who ignored common sense and did whatever she pleased with no thought to the consequences, who still had chipped nails and dirt under her fingers despite the expensive jewels and dresses she wore…_

_She had promised Ava they would be friends forever. When they were younger, when Ava was just another girl in the palace, not her brother's intended, not the Queen. When Ava was a pixie child with an impetuous grin and too much energy, and she herself was too fond of adventure and too excited by dreams…_

_Ava had been Zan's opposite in almost every way. Where she was full of energy and excitement, he was quiet and thoughtful. Where she was impetuous and reckless, he was deliberate and cautious. He was kind and thoughtful and felt things deeply and she laughed at his brooding and mocked his sincerity and loved him anyway._

_And now they were both dead._

_Because of her._

_Nicolas had grabbed her by the arm and tried to pull her away from the fighting. Khivar had led his army through the gates and she had let him. She'd done nothing, just stood there, and when she had realized what was happening, it had been too late._

Too late.

_And Nicolas had tried to pull her away, tried to take her to safety, and she had torn loose from his grip and run, stumbling steps, panicked, frantic glances, searching, searching…_

_Too late._

_She hadn't found them. Not in time._

_And now she was here in this abandoned corridor with the black curtains floating in the air and the acrid smell of smoke and the burning in her eyes and none of it made any sense._

_Khivar had told her that he loved her. _

_Laughter burst from her lips. She couldn't control it, and soon she was laughing so hard she had to brace herself with her hands against the floor. Her body shook with the laughter, a nearly crazed sound. If someone where to see her now, they would think her mad._

_But who would see her? The only ones who mattered were dead._

_The laughter started to choke her, and soon she couldn't breathe. She was struggling for air, laughter fading into sobs as her body continued to shake and the tears streamed down her face and she just didn't know what was happening or what she felt or…_

"_Lonnie?"_

_Her head jerked up._

_He was there. Standing there, at the other end of the corridor, partially obscured from her view by the fluttering of a black curtain. The chandeliers above did not give off enough light for her to see him clearly, but she knew. She knew his voice, she knew the sound of his breathing and his footsteps on the floor. She knew everything about him._

"_Liar," she snarled, rising unsteadily to her feet. She would go mad. She would go completely mad, she would break herself apart, she would kill him._

"_Vilandra…"_

_She darted forward, grief giving away to fury. A scream tore itself from her throat, cutting off his words. "_Liar_!" She lunged into him, nearly knocking him over with the strength of her wrath. He stumbled back but caught himself, and his arms wrapped around her tightly._

"_Lonnie, please…" he began._

_She reached up and slapped him. She curved her fingers and slapped him again, nails raking across the skin on his face, drawing blood._

"_Liar! Why do you not kill me, too, Khivar?"_

"_I do not want to hurt you," Khivar said, his voice low and gentle. Soft. Too soft. How could he pretend to care about her now, so soon after murdering all of them?_

_Her brother, her best friend, and…_

_Her betrothed._

_Loyal. And boring. He'd driven her insane with his constant courteous presence. He would have moved the world for her, but she knew it was not because of love. It was duty. She was to be his wife, and he was to be her husband, and he viewed his responsibility to her the same way he viewed his responsibility to his soldiers. And to her brother._

_A job. A duty._

_Not love. Never love._

_But he was good and kind and would have protected her, and did it matter if it was love or not? She'd still betrayed him, and he was dead now…_

Dead_._

…_and even if they would never be in love, they were still friends. Well… they had been friends._

_Past tense._

_What were they now?_

_What was she now?_

_She collapsed against Khivar, her hands turned into fists, hitting him repeatedly in the chest. "Just kill me," she sobbed, "like you killed them. Do you not see that I am your enemy?"_

"_I _love_ you," Khivar answered. "We are not enemies."_

"_You murdered my family!" she snarled, lifting a flushed face to glare at him. She could see the drops of blood forming from where her fingers had scratched his skin, and then saw the other bruises and cuts, signs of the battle he had been fighting._

_The battle against her family._

"Murderer_," she screamed, raising both hands. Her fingers glowed white as she reached up to hit him, to burn him, to force her own pain and grief into him. But he caught her wrists easily with one hand and pushed them away. Her fingers hit the nearby curtain and it went up in flames._

_Her other arm tightened around her even more._

"_I love you. Do you not you love me?" he asked._

"_No! No, no, no! I do not," she hissed. "I do _not_."_

_But what difference did it make now? They were dead, all of them, and she was alone. And it was all her fault._

_There was smoke in the air and Khivar was holding her tightly, and was falling apart. This wasn't possible, it just wasn't. She wanted it to be a nightmare. She wanted to wake up, safe in her own bed._

_She wanted this to be over._

"_Just _kill_ me, too," she whispered, pleading, begging. She wanted this to end._

"_Do you really not love me?" Khivar pressed. She felt his hand on her chin, lifting her face up, and she looked into his eyes. He was staring at her, smiling softly, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fall away. The sound of fighting was gone, and the smell of smoke and blood and the knowledge of what had just happened all faded away and she was caught in this one moment, with him._

"_I do not love you," she whispered, forcing out the words._

_But it was a lie. Even after all of this… she loved him still._

_But…_

_But they were all dead._

_It was over._

_She stepped backwards, out of his embrace, and with one fluid movement, she snatched the gun from his belt. He reacted quickly, too quickly for her, and as her finger pressed against the trigger, he had already twisted her arm so that the gun pointed back at herself._

_There was a flash of white, and then nothingness._

_They were dead. All of them._

* * *

"Hello, Zan."

Isabel felt her heart hammering in her chest, felt the air leave her lungs. He was here. Khivar was here. Not in her dreams, not in her memories. He was actually here. In person.

In front of them.

There was blood on the floor. Blood and dead bodies. And charred wood and broken glass and plaster and brick. And more blood.

Isabel felt abruptly nauseous.

"You killed my brother," Khivar said, walking forward. His expression was calm, except for his eyes. His lips were a straight line, his body relaxed, but his eyes…

His eyes were burning with fiery hatred.

"You killed my brother and you murdered my followers."

"You killed me and took my throne," Max replied. "You killed my wife, my sister, my best friend. My people. You started this war, Khivar. Not me."

"This was quite the trap," Khivar said softly. "Did you have Ahab's help? I can't imagine you planned the entire thing on your own." He paused, arms folded over his chest. "And the energy we sensed. That wasn't really the Granolith, was it?"

"You've been looking for it for over fifty years. Did you really think we would make it that easy for you to find it?" Max replied.

He wasn't Max anymore. Isabel could see that. All she had to do was look at her brother and see Zan breaking through. It was happening to all of them. Rath was shining in Michael's eyes and Ava was seeping into Tess' expression and Isabel knew that this was probably normal, probably a side-effect of the fact that they had been relying so much on their powers, tapping into their alien half to win this battle.

But she was trying not to let Vilandra come through. She was trying so damn hard not to let the alien Princess break through her firm control, but Khivar was here, standing in front of her, and she was losing the battle.

She drew a slow breath. She'd beaten Khivar once. She'd beaten _Vilandra_, too. She could do this.

The wall behind Khivar had been partially blown away, and several figures appeared. They were skins, and they picked their way through the rubble, coming to stand behind their leader. There expressions were hard and flat and determined, and it was clear that they would fight to the death if need be.

"You killed us," Isabel whispered. Khivar looked at her, and she continued, "You were supposed to love me. You promised that, and you… you killed me. You killed everyone that I loved. And you killed me."

"What is that human saying?" Khivar mused, eyes narrowing in thought. "Ah… yes. All's fair in love and war." And he flung out both arms, sending a burst of energy towards Isabel.

Max raised his hand and conjured a shield, and the flickering green force-field absorbed the blow. Then he dropped his shield, and Michael flicked both wrists in an expert gesture, causing the already broken ceiling above them to explode even further. The air was filled with dust and several of the skins had to dodge the falling debris.

"Kill them!" Khivar snarled, and several skins rushed forward. They were slightly outnumbered, and Khivar probably overpowered them all, and Isabel knew it wasn't good for them… it wasn't good at all…

She dodged an attack, felt her heart skip a beat.

She was scared. Terrified.

They were fighting a war. She knew that, she had known it all along, but somehow the weight of that suddenly settled on her far more than it ever had before and she was _terrified_.

"You brought the rebel skins and your own Royalists," Khivar spat as he loomed in front of her. "Clever. It was good, very good. But not good enough." He was there, right in front of her, his hands wrapping around her arms. And she felt stuck, like she was drowning, because she couldn't remember how to fight him.

"Isabel!"

"Izzy, fight him!"

Max and Tess were yelling at her, but they were fighting on their own, skins were everywhere and Isabel stumbled backwards, tears in her eyes.

"Isabel! You've done this before. Fight back!" Michael screamed, and then he fell, a skin standing over him and Isabel couldn't understand what had just happened, how had everything spun so far out of her control?

"Isabel?"

It was Alex's voice in her ear, coming from the earpiece she was still wearing.

"Alex…" she whispered.

"_Fight back_!" she heard him say, his voice strong and sure.

She looked up and met Khivar's gaze.

And fought back.

* * *

Next Chapter: War (part five)

Due: Soon


	38. War part five

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: So very sorry for the delay. Real life caught up to me for a while, but I'm back now.

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Eight: War (part five)

_Like an instrument for a song  
Like the sun for tomorrow's dawn  
Every moment of time's just an answer to find  
What you're here for, what you breathe for  
What you wake for, what you bleed for  
What you hope for, what you live for_

"_Careful, Vail, careful!" the man said. He was anxious, his eyes betraying his anxiety. He paced worriedly, glancing every now and then at the other two, barking out orders that switched between admonishments for them to hurry and cries for them to be cautious._

_It was clearly annoying the other two._

"_Leave me be, Zorn, I know what I am doing. You are not a scientist," one of the men, Vail, said coolly._

"_And you are not a soldier," Zorn answered heatedly. "We are still at war, and this…" he gestured wildly to the laboratory all around them, "is our only hope of survival."_

"_This is not just about survival," the other scientist murmured. "We are creating life, we are preserving the Royals essences. This is not even mere science…" He stared at the bottles of chemicals and Petri dishes of cells before him. "This is so much more than that."_

"_The Lady Courntey did not go to all the trouble of finding the two of you so that you could wax poetic," Zorn snapped. "She recommended you to the Queen Mother because you are supposedly the best at this particular bit of genetics." He squinted at the lab bench. "How much longer will this take?"_

"_A few days, perhaps."_

_Zorn snorted. "A few days," he grumbled, although in truth, it was far faster than he had expected. But they were working under pressure, and they could not afford any unnecessary delays._

_Of course, they could not afford another mistake, either. The last attempt at creating the hybrids had not gone as well, and the clones that had been formed were clearly not fit to carry the DNA of the great Royals._

_Zorn looked away, towards the walls that surrounded them. There were no windows here, nothing to let in natural light. And nothing to let the rest of the world know that this facility was being used. The project was being done entirely in secret, not even all of the Royalists new of it. There was still a war raging all around them, and if Khivar heard what they were doing…_

_That would be yet another mistake, and one they certainly could not allow to happen._

"_Look in the microscope, Dar, and tell me what you see," Vail directed suddenly, nodding towards his colleague. _

_Dar obediently bent forward and peered through the lens, a smile gracing his features. "The cells are binding. Human and Antarian DNA. They are combining."_

"_Humans," Zorn sniffed, shaking his head in disgust. "I still do not see why we must use their DNA. Could we not take DNA from some other sentient being? One that is not so wasteful, so weak, so pathetically subpar?"_

_Vail smiled grimly. "Unfortunately, no. They must be born as children and have time to develop, to grow into adults. And they will not be able to do that unless they leave this solar system, and even this galaxy. We cannot risk having Khivar hear of their presence and find them before they are ready to fight back. This planet they call Earth is the safest place for them, and they cannot live on Earth and blend in with the native inhabitants unless they share DNA."_

"_But humans… how can we dilute the Royals' DNA with something so foul?" Zorn growled. _

_Vail nodded in agreement, but Dar looked up from the microscope and said mildly, "But you have not met a human."_

"_I have studied them," Zorn answered distastefully. "That was enough." _

_And it was enough. He did not need to meet a human to make up his mind about them. The knowledge he had gleaned from books and technology had been more than enough to convince him that he belonged to a far superior species._

_Humans were so wasteful they did not even use all of their potential, all of their mental power!_

"_They are weak," he said, "and I do not like them."_

_Dar sighed. "Perhaps. But perhaps they are stronger than we realize. Perhaps they will surprise us all."_

* * *

Maria hated this. Hated everything about this, about sitting here staring at computer screens, watching as the boy she loved and her best friend went rushing into danger. She was literally just watching, and when Michael had first suggested it she had thought maybe she could so some help, but she felt so useless.

They were facing Khivar.

They were _facing_ Khivar.

Kristalia and Patrick were both dead, and God only knew how many others had been killed as well. And she didn't want them to die, but she also really care about any of them – and she knew just how horrible of a person that made her, to be so carelessly dismissing their deaths, but they _weren't_ Liz or Michael, and that mattered to her.

It mattered a lot.

Still, she was a little afraid that it made her completely soulless to have felt relief every time someone else died instead of the people she cared about. And she was sitting there, hands clenched into fists, studying the computer screens and feeling so confused and so worried and so…

"Mr. Whitman, Ms. DeLuca."

Maria started, and spun around in her chair. Alex was on his feet behind her, and they both stared in surprise and a little bit of shock at the man who had appeared so suddenly and so silently that they had been caught unawares.

He was older than them, and dressed in a crisp black suit. His expression was bland, and his eyes were not focused on them, but rather on the computer screens. His gaze kept flicking back and forth between the different screens, studying them. And there was something about him that gave Maria the impression that he was assessing the battle… and that he had seen battles before.

It was Alex who spoke first, which was probably a good thing because Maria wasn't sure she would be able to find her voice any time soon.

"Who are you?"

"Not important," the man replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a badge. He held it up for them to see, and Maria felt her heart plummet into her chest.

FBI.

"Do you have a way of contacting your friends?" the FBI agent asked, nodding at the computer.

Maria reached automatically for the earpiece she was wearing, and the FBI's eyes caught her movement. A satisfied smile lit up his face, and he nodded.

Maria and Alex exchanged a brief look.

"It would probably be in their best interest if you were to inform those you care about to exit the compound," the FBI agent said quietly. "And quickly." He looked down at the watch on his wrist. "You have twenty minutes."

"Until what?" Maria demanded, finally remembering to speak.

The FBI agent looked up and met her gaze without any emotion. "Until we take care of things the human way."

* * *

Liz looked up just in time to see Isabel's hands connect with Khivar's face. The tall blonde raked her fingers across Khivar's skin, drawing blood. It was such a futile move – how could fingernails do much damage to someone as powerful as the skin king – but it seemed to take Khivar by surprise.

"Khivar!" Max snarled, pushing himself away from the attacking skins and stumbling towards his sister and the skin king. Liz wanted to scream out to him, to tell him not to be stupid, not to draw attention to himself. But Khivar was fighting his sister, and Max wasn't going to sit out on the sidelines.

Liz knew that much.

She struggled to reach his side. There were several more skins coming into the room from the gaping holes in the wall, but Liz could hear footsteps above them and hoped that meant that their allies were coming to their aid.

"Leave her alone," Max snarled, raising his hands and sending bursts of white energy at Khivar. "Your fight is with me."

Khivar waved a hand carelessly and dissipated the attack while still focusing on Isabel. "Actually," he said, "my fight is with all of you. But don't worry, I'll do your sister a favor and kill her quickly."

And he backhanded Isabel. There must have been some sort of power in his attack, Liz thought idly, because Isabel went flying across the room and landed in a heap on the floor several feet away from them.

"Izzy!" Liz heard Michael scream.

Liz spared Isabel a quick glance, long enough to ensure that the hybrid Princess was still alive. Isabel crawled to her hands and knees and Liz turned her attention back Max. He had somehow fought his way through the room and was standing in front of Khivar. His eyes shone with disgust and repulsion, and his anger was close to boiling over.

Michael was helping Isabel to her feet and Tess was somehow holding her own against the several skins that were facing her, and Liz found herself stumbling forward, practically tripping over her feet. She looked down and saw that the ground was covered in broken cement and without thinking she leaned over and picked up a piece of rubble.

Someone grabbed her arm and she spun around and slammed the heavy cement into the chest of the person attacking her.

The skin took a few steps backwards, twisting and slipping along the floor to keep his footing, and Liz threw the rock at him, shattering his husk.

He turned into pieces of skin, into dust.

Liz felt suddenly sick. They had been fighting and she had probably killed in the chaos, but this skin had just… before her very eyes, he had…

She couldn't even think the words.

"Max!"

She heard Tess yell out a warning and spun around in time to see Khivar knock Max to the ground. Khivar stood there, a cold smirk on his face, completely uncaring. There was triumph and glee, and it was so bitter and so vicious, and Liz felt pure rage.

Khivar was going to kill Max, and he was _laughing_ about it.

Then Isabel was there, grabbing Khivar by the arm and dragging him away from Max. She raised both hands and telekinetically shoved him into the wall and held him there, but it only took Khivar a moment to break free. He fell, but landed fairly gracefully on his hands and feet amidst the rubble.

Liz ran to Max's side.

He was bleeding badly from a wound on his head and there were several bruises along his face and neck. She had no idea how he had gotten so badly hurt in such a short period of time, but his eyes were glazed over in pain and she looked up and Khivar and threw out her hand without even thinking.

The same green energy that had appeared when she had attacked Courtney was there again, morphing into electricity and crackling up and down the length of her arm. Her anger was bubbling over, causing her to act without thinking, to do things she didn't even know _how_ to do. She just wanted to keep the people she loved safe.

The electricity hit Khivar in the chest and it should have been enough to stop him, to at least slow him down. He didn't have time to raise a shield to defend himself, but while the electricity struck him fully, it did little more than make him stumble.

He was too strong.

"Max!"

Alex's voice was ringing in her ears, and she stopped for a moment, surprised. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Isabel do the same, surprised by the panic in Alex's tone.

"You need to get out of the compound. _Now_!"

"What? _Why_?" Liz heard Michael demanding. She twisted around and looked at him, and for a moment, their eyes met.

Then Isabel was screaming, "Liz, look out!" and Michael was extending his hand in her direction. She looked up as Khivar loomed over her, a manic grin on his face, and then Michael's power hit him fully, knocking him back several steps.

"You have twenty minutes to get out of the compound and get as far away from it as possible!" Alex was still shouting in her ear. His words were reaching her, the four hybrids, and Ahab, and the scene was rapidly dissolving into even more chaos.

Max blinked a few times, pushing away the pain that clouded his vision, and fought to climb to his hands and knees. Liz was still holding into him with one hand, and she started at his movement.

"Why do we need to leave?" Max asked hoarsely.

"I don't know. The… the FBI, they said…" Alex's voice answered, fading slightly at the end.

Max stumbled to his feet.

"Still fighting back, Zan?" Khivar sneered, and Liz found herself having trouble paying attention to the skin king and Alex at the same time.

Michael and Tess were fighting towards them, and Isabel was already there.

"Don't worry, though. You won't be fighting much longer. I'll kill you and your pathetic human love."

Max stepped forward, one hand stretched out in front of him, power rippling up and down the length of his arm. The air grew hot and humid and filled with energy like the night sky right before a summer thunderstorm and Liz turned to look at Max. And gasped.

His eyes were completely black.

"Well, well, well," Khivar drawled. "Look who finally decided to play. You know everything would be a lot easier if you just gave in to the inevitable."

Max brought both his hands together in front of him, and Liz watched in horrified fascination as he channeled a continual stream of shimmering electricity down his arms. It crackled at his fingertips and jumped into the air, exploding towards Khivar.

Khivar retaliated with an attack of his own, but somehow Max seemed unharmed. His black eyes seemed to widen in size, and his body was nearly glowing. The fury that fueled his powers was spiraling all around him, and Liz knew – _somehow_, and she wasn't quite sure how she knew that – that Max Evans was disappearing, to be replaced by pure Zan.

She didn't like Zan. He'd been arrogant and dismissive, and had seemed to care only for Tess and Michael. Even Isabel had been treated with coldness, and everyone had been treated as though they were second-best.

But Zan was clearly powerful.

Then Michael struck out with his power as well, and Liz noticed the darkness in his eyes. He wasn't fully Rath yet, but he was giving into his alien half, allowing that personality and that power to break free and join Max in the fight.

Maria had confided in Liz that Michael had been afraid of Rath, of the type of person he had been in a past life. How would this change Michael?

Would either of them be able to come back?

"Guys? Guys, did you hear me? Get out!" Alex's voice echoed in Liz's ear.

"We heard you," Tess said sharply. "Now shut up."

Liz could literally feel Alex bristling at the command, but he said nothing. And although Liz felt a wave of annoyance at Tess' tone, she couldn't blame the other girl for being on edge. They couldn't listen to Alex, fight Khivar, and find a way out all in the next twenty minutes.

At this point, she thought idly, they were probably down to fifteen.

Khivar had turned to face Isabel. There were now several skins between Liz, Max, Michael, and Khivar and Isabel. Liz blinked and couldn't quite figure out how that had happened.

"You are Vilandra, my dear," Liz heard Khivar say as he and Isabel exchanged blows. "And she did sell out her brother and her betrothed. What makes you think you can really be any different?"

"_Shut up_!" Isabel snarled, punching Khivar in the face with all her strength. "I love my family. More than anything. And you… you pathetic…" She hit Khivar again, splitting his lip.

He tossed her aside like a ragdoll.

"Isabel!" Tess screamed, and ran to her side.

"Get away from my sister!" Max or Zan or whoever he was snarled.

"The sister who betrayed you?" Khivar laughed cruelly. "Is that the sister you are so desperate to save? Pathetic, all of you."

"You're the one who is pathetic," Tess spat. "You don't understand, do you? You never will. You'll never get why people you love deserve second chances. You think being human is a weakness? You think emotions are a weakness?"

"I'll kill you," Khivar said angrily. "And your stupid human friends. You are a waste of perfectly good flesh, and the parasitic species on this planet is _nothing_ at all."

Max flung him into the far wall. "Get up," he snarled. "Get up and fight me, you coward. You killed me once by using Ava against me. Fight fairly this time, Khivar. Fight _me_."

"What difference will that make?" Khivar laughed. "Even with all four of you," he paused, eyes moving over Liz, and said contemptuously, "_five_ of you… you still can't win. You can't stop me. You aren't powerful enough."

And he strode forward without hesitation, ignoring Isabel and Tess and even Michael.

He grabbed Liz and pulled her forward, his fingers wrapping around her throat. Fear filled her chest, and she struggled for oxygen. His hands were hot, and her throat felt as though it was burning, but she wasn't sure if it was because he was strangling her or because his hands were actually on fire.

Her vision was darkening, blackness encroaching quickly. Spots and then darkness and she could barely breathe…

Light exploded everywhere around her and she fell to her knees, suddenly released from Khivar's grasp. Her body hit the ground hard, sending waves of pain through her bones. She gasped, then tasted blood in her mouth and realized she had bitten down on her tongue. Her ears were ringing and her vision was blurred and she was struggling, trying to get as much oxygen as possible.

Everything was bright white. The light was searing into her eyes, and she shut them tight, trying to block out the brightness. It took a moment for her brain to kick in, to remind her that they were fighting and she couldn't lie on the floor with her eyes shut while the battle raged around her.

She forced open her eyes.

Khivar was lying on the floor next to her. There was red electricity traveling up and down the length of his body. Max, Michael, Tess, and Isabel were all standing above Khivar, their hands outstretched, palms glowing. It took Liz a moment to comprehend, to realize that all four of them must have attacked Khivar at the moment that the skin king had tried to kill her.

She tried to pull herself to her feet, but her hands slid over the floor and she stumbled forward, falling against the rubble. Jagged edges of stone sliced through the palm of her skin, drawing blood, and she winced in pain.

Then she closed her hand over the rock and struck Khivar across the head with it. The force of the blow sent reverberations up and down her arm.

The electricity stopped, and Khivar's eyes glazed over.

He was dead.

Tess lowered her hand, breaking the connection that had appeared between the four of them, and then said dryly, "That was anti-climatic."

"You have five minutes to get out of there!" Alex suddenly yelled in their ears.

Liz stared down at Khivar's body. It was crumbling, the skin falling apart, turning into dusk. She was still holding the rock in her hand, the rock that had killed Khivar.

She'd killed him. Like she'd killed the other skin. Like she'd probably killed several skins during this battle.

But Khivar… she'd killed him with her _hands_.

Max was kneeling at her side, pulling her to her feet, dragging her from the room. There was chaos everywhere and she was dimly aware of the skins closing in on them, filled with fury and rage, and Alex's voice was still echoing in her ears.

Five minutes to get out.

* * *

Next Chapter: In the Wake of a War

Due: Now


	39. In the Wake of a War

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: I've posted two chapters with this update, so if you haven't read the last one, make sure to go back and read it now. Otherwise you'll be missing out on a lot.

This chapter briefly alludes to the story-arc in _Time After Time_ in which Courtney accidentally causes Zan's personality traits to come out in Max, and Max ends up pushing Liz away because of his disdain for humans. So, just a reminder… Liz and Max's relationship was almost completely destroyed by Zan's personality.

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Nine: In the Wake of a War

They were running.

There were skins everywhere, and the Royalist army, and rebel skins, and Courtney was somewhere there as well, and there were dead bodies and destruction, but all they could think about was Alex's warning and the fact that they had no idea what was going to happen and only five minutes to get out.

Michael collided into Ahab near the exit of the compound. The Royalist grabbed the hybrid General by the arm. "There are still too many skins, we can't fight them all in five minutes. Why does Alex Whitman need us to leave?"

Michael shook his head. "I don't know. But he wouldn't tell us to get out unless there was a reason for it," Michael answered firmly. It had something to do with the FBI, and he wasn't going to take any chances.

"Just get the Royalists out of here," Max ordered, spinning around quickly and facing Ahab. "And if you can leave the skins behind, great. If not, we'll deal with them later."

Liz was leaning heavily against Max, and both Isabel and Tess were limping slightly. They were all covered in bruises and bumps and blood, but that didn't scare Michael anywhere near as much as the memory of the genuine fear in Alex's voice.

They stumbled through the courtyard. It was colder than Michael had expected, and he shook his head to remind himself that it was the middle of winter. Even in Roswell, winter was hardly ever warm.

Had he forgotten that? Had he been so wrapped up in the fighting that he'd forgotten where he was and that it was winter?

The night sky was still dark, but everything was outlined in orange and red. A silhouette of the compound stood out starkly from the fire that Tess had started, and flames were slowly expanding outwards, sending smoke spiraling into the sky.

The courtyard was filled with broken automobiles and shattered stones and boulders, and for a moment, Michael lost sight of the others in the labyrinth of debris. He had done this, he had caused this destruction, and he'd barely even stopped to think about it after the fighting began.

After Rath had started seeping into his mind.

"Michael! Michael, this way!" he heard Tess calling, her shrill voice rising above the din of fighting and stampeding feet. He searched for her, his eyes scanning the frenzied scene, and finally caught sight of blonde curls. He followed Tess, picking his way through the wreckage. He caught up to Tess quickly, and found her with the other three, fighting to get towards the exit.

"Are you guys out? Michael? Liz?" Maria was crying, her voice breathless.

Michael didn't bother replying. He couldn't put energy into finding the right words to reassure her. When they were safely out, when Alex's words weren't reverberating in his skull, when the frantic warning wasn't telling him that they needed to run, needed to get out of here, needed to get as far away as possible…

Then he would tell Maria that everything was okay.

Assuming that everything _was_ okay.

Something or someone caught his arm, snaring it, and he turned, hand lifted, ready to attack. Electricity crackled at his fingers, illuminating the surprised face looking at him, and he couldn't tell if it was Royalist or a skin. He was supposed to know the difference between friend and enemy, but he _didn't_.

It was chaos.

Michael broke away from the other alien and continued running.

Liz tripped over her feet and fell against Max, and he caught her swiftly. Half-holding her and half-dragging her, he continued moving towards the edge of the courtyard and then beyond into the rocky desert.

Isabel was stumbling behind them, having difficulty keeping up, and Michael turned to grab her arm. "Come on!" he hissed, all his focus on the battle now gone. Panic was welling in his chest, and he couldn't think of anything else except that he needed to get the others out of there.

He had to protect them. He had to keep them safe. That was his _job_, and they were running out of time.

The road appeared up ahead. It was easier to run now that they were out of the mess of rocks and cars. They were covering ground quickly, and Michael felt some relief at that because there was no way that they had much more than a few seconds left…

"Max, do you hear that?"

Michael glanced towards Liz. He wasn't sure what she had heard – was that ringing in his ears? Was that normal? – but she was looking upwards, towards the sky.

"I don't hear anything," Max said.

"No… wait… listen…" Isabel whispered. "I hear it, too. What is that?"

Then the plane appeared.

It dropped down from below a cloud cover and hovered for a moment directly above the compound. It was hard to see against the rest of the darkness, but Michael could just make out the outline. And without knowing why, without understanding where this instinct was coming from, he was suddenly shouting, "Take cover!"

And the world exploded into sound and light.

* * *

She couldn't see.

Gasping for breath, she struggled to find her way through the whiteness that was seared into her eyes. Something was ringing in her ears, and she was only dimly aware of the sharp rocks biting into her skin. She could smell blood and wasn't sure if it was hers or if someone else was hurt as well.

What had happened?

She blinked several times, and slowly the outlines of shapes appeared. They were hazy and indistinct, people and rocks and the ground all blurry together.

"Tess?"

Someone was calling her name. She rubbed at her ears as though that gesture would make everything clear, but it did little to restore her hearing.

A hand grabbed her arm.

"Tess," the voice said again.

"Ye-yeah…" she stammered, her throat dry. She squinted, blinked, squinted again. "Max?"

The shape nodded. "Everything's fuzzy," Max said. "I can't find Michael or Isabel. I can't see…" He trailed off and dropped her arm.

"Guys?" This was a new voice. It felt like it was inside her mind. It was so much louder than the surroundings, so much stronger, strong enough to be heard clearly above the ringing. For a moment, she thought perhaps it was her own thoughts speaking to her.

Maybe she was going crazy.

"Guys!" the voice said once more, this time more desperate.

She swallowed, forced herself to think. "Maria?"

"Tess? Is that you? Are you okay? Michael? Liz? What happened? Tess!" It was Maria, and she was panicking.

It took Tess a moment to realize that the voice was coming from the earpiece still in her ear. "Maria," she said again, trying to orient herself to the situation.

She blinked once more. The haze of the surrounding area became more distinct, and she could see Max and Liz clearly. They were in front of her, huddled behind what appeared to be the ruins of an overturned car.

Where had the car come from? She couldn't remember it being there before.

"Tess," a new voice said.

She let out a breath. "Alex?"

"You're the only one who can hear us," Alex said. "I think the transmitters in all the others have been destroyed, probably by the explosion."

"Explosion?" Tess repeated. "What… what happened?" Her mind felt sluggish. It wasn't working properly; she couldn't form coherent thoughts. Something had happened, something big, but she had no idea what it was. There was blood on her clothing, more blood than she remembered. Had she hurt herself? Had she hurt someone else?

What was going on?

"Tess," came Alex's voice, soft and patient, although underlined with a hint of steel. "Tess, listen to me. There was some kind of explosion. Maria and I could hear it through the transmitters but we don't know what it was. I need you to look around and tell me if everyone is okay."

"Max and Liz," Tess said. "I see them. They're okay."

"Oh, thank God," Maria whispered, her voice soft in Tess' ear. "But what about the others? Michael? Isabel?"

Tess rubbed at her eyes. The white was gone and shapes were taking on definite colors. The ringing in her ears was starting to fade, too, and she forced herself to crawl forward along the ground, ignoring the pain in her hands and knees. She had to find Michael and Isabel.

"Michael?" she called. "Isabel? Where are you?"

There was no answer.

"Michael!" she repeated, an edge of hysteria creeping into her voice. "_Michael_!"

Silence.

"_Isabel_! Where are you? _Answer_ me!"

Nothing.

* * *

Liz could still see the plane etched into her mind. She looked up at the clouds and it seemed to hover there, a figment of her memory. She had seen it appear from between the clouds, seen it flying above the compound, and then everything had exploded. Her eyes still hurt from the light and her ears were still ringing with noise, but when she looked at the sky, all she could think of was that plane.

She let her gaze drop down to the compound and stifled a gasp no one else could hear.

There was nothing there but rubble.

The compound itself had been flattened. As far as she could see, there was nothing but desert and destruction. Twisted, burned pieces of metal, remains of destroyed cars, fragments of brick and cement.

And blood.

The explosion had scattered the compound and everything in it. There were bodies lying in the dirt not to far from her. Some were clearly skins, and they were already dissolving before her eyes, their husks cracked. Others had to be bodies of Royalists. They were not dissolving, but were simply lying there, broken and lifeless and covered in blood.

Tess was calling out for Michael and Isabel. The ground was littered with too much metal and stone to see anything clearly. The edge of the road had been obscured by the debris.

Liz inhaled slowly, and smelled the smoke and ash in the air.

She looked at Max. He was standing now, on his feet. His body was rigid and tense, and his eyes were moving everywhere, frantically searching. He was holding onto Tess, and that was when Liz realized that the had been injured. He'd been holding her hand moments before everything exploded, and then she had felt him get torn away from her. And he been thrown to the ground like she had? Had the explosion injured him?

There was no sign of Michael or Isabel.

Liz met Max's gaze, and there was something so inhuman in his eyes. It was Zan, she realized with a start. Zan was staring back at her, and she had already been through this one, already watched Max turn into an alien king who couldn't… or _wouldn't_… care about humans.

He had been Zan before the explosion. He had been Zan in the battle. She had seen that look in his eyes then, too.

She wrapped her arms around herself and smelled the blood that was staining her hands and chest.

She felt sick.

Khivar's face swam in front of her eyes. He'd been alive and then he'd been dead, and that had been because of _her_. It didn't make sense and she felt a hot, bubbling anger and guilt and bewildered shame in the pit of her stomach. She had done the right thing, hadn't she? That was why they had come here, after all.

To kill.

Oh, God…

But it was over. The war was over.

They had… won?

This didn't feel like victory.

Tess was still searching, still screaming names. And there was movement from around her as a few survivors slowly pulled themselves to their feet. She didn't recognize a single one of them, but maybe it was because she was far too bewildered and numb to even think about who she was seeing.

Were they skins? But they weren't attacking her. Were they Royalists?

She raised her eyes to the sky again. The plane was gone, nowhere to be seen, but she could still picture it hovering there, prepared to destroy everything.

* * *

There was something dark inside of him.

Max couldn't think of any other way to explain the feeling, but fortunately no one was paying much attention to the darkness he knew had to be seeping into his eyes. It was there, inside of him, eating away at everything that made him who he was.

The air was filled with the smell of smoke and blood and he couldn't find Michael or Isabel anywhere and Liz looked numb and Tess looked panicked and God only knew how many people had just died in the explosion, but all Max could think about was this feeling. It was creeping through his veins, spreading steadily into every cell of his body.

He had felt the beginnings of that rage when the fighting started. It had increased every time he saw someone get hurt, and when Courtney appeared before them. And then Khivar had tried to kill Liz.

It was Zan inside of him, but it also wasn't. His power and his personality, but Max could feel his own fury and his own anger and his own fear. It was different from Zan, but it felt just as dangerous.

Someone had destroyed the compound.

He looked away from Tess, his eyes focusing on the place where they had been fighting. The compound was gone, destroyed.

The plane.

The FBI.

Alex's warning.

It was over.

He narrowed his eyes. The ground was covered in broken metal and large rocks and pieces of twisted wire. He had to pick his way through the ruins. It was too hard to walk in a straight line, too hard to see anything but destruction.

There was movement around him. Other people joining in the search. Royalists, he thought numbly. Or were they skins? There were only a few of them. Seven, maybe eight. Were they the only ones who had survived?

They were calling out, searching for others.

Michael and Isabel weren't the only ones lost here.

He was angry. Furious. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

But how had he expected it to end? They'd still be fighting now if it wasn't for the explosion. They would still be wrapped up in this war, even with Khivar dead. The other skins wouldn't have just stopped. There would still be fighting, they would still have had to finish the battle.

Now it was done. Over.

And at what cost?

But he had never expected the war to be easy. There was _always_ going to be a cost.

But the cost wasn't supposed to be Isabel and Michael.

His hands curled into fists. This couldn't be happening. It _couldn't_.

His head felt like it was going to explode.

Why wasn't Isabel answering him? Why had he let Liz join in the fight? Why couldn't he think of something comforting to say to Tess?

Why hadn't he been able to protect them?

Where was Michael?

He doubled over in pain and rested his hands on what he could only assume used to be a motorcycle. He could barely stand upright. Everything hurt, but the pain in his stomach and head and hands was nothing compared to the feeling in his chest.

It was dark and dangerous and it was threatening to take over.

* * *

Next Chapter: Those Left Behind

Due: 6/11


	40. Those Left Behind

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to Time After Time. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Forty: Those Left Behind

His entire body felt as though it was on fire. Something was pressing down on him, pushing his body into the ground. Dirt and sand pressed into his face, scratching at his closed eyes and torn skin. He could taste blood in his mouth. It felt like it was choking him, like the blood was dripping down his throat and into his lungs.

Panic had set in.

He tried to move his arms. His left arm was at an odd angle, and even the slightest motion sent waves of intense pain shooting up and down his body. His right hand scrambled at the ground, clawing desperately. He could barely move the left arm at all, but at least it didn't hurt as much as the right.

The thing on top of him – rocks? A car? An entire building? – was pressing down, making it hard to move.

He turned his head to the side. His neck hurt, and was stiff, but he could turn his head just enough to get clear of the ground.

He blinked and tried to open his eyes. The world was a haze of blended color and indistinct shapes.

_Sleeping, Space Boy? Don't you think this isn't _quite_ the right time for that?_

He groaned. "Wh…what? Where… Mar…" It hurt to speak. It was challenging, too. He couldn't force the words out, no matter how hard he tried. They cracked and broke in the middle, leaving him with fragments of sentences that made no sense.

_Come on, get up. You won. We need to celebrate. I am not going to let you sleep through the entire day._

"I… hurt."

_You hurt? Pathetic. Come on, get up! Fight back. Come on, General. Or are you scared?_

This new voice was different. Masculine. Deeper, harsher. Angrier. There was mocking in it, a cold, callous laughter.

"Nic…las… dead…" he said, spitting out the words. His throat was raw and his voice was scratchy, and he felt completely helpless trapped underneath whatever was pressing him into the ground. He couldn't think clearly. His brain was filled with fog, but his emotions were strong and firm. He felt a welling of fury and anger at the voice, at the memories that arose from hearing it.

But Nicolas was dead. So how could he be here?

He turned his left hand over so that the palm was facing upwards and tried to summon enough energy to blast the thing on top of him.

_Stop! Are you insane? If you blow it up, you could kill yourself!_

"Izzy…"

He blinked again. Was Isabel here? Had she survived the… whatever had happened?

A blast. He remembered a blast. But… how?

Where was he?

_Oh, God. You're delusional. Great._

Sarcasm. It was Isabel. And Isabel was being sarcastic. But where was she?

"Need… need to… get…free…" he whispered. "Need…"

_Yes, Space Boy, we get that. But use your brain. Or, at least, what is left of your brain. If you actually had one to start with… which we are all starting to doubt._

"Ma…ria…"

_Pathetic. How could you have ever been the great General who led the royal troops of Antar?_

Nicolas. He had to fight Nicolas. He had to get free, had to stop Nicolas, had to protect the others. He had to…

He blinked again, and felt blood trickle into his eyes.

Why was Nicolas here?  
Where was here?

He _needed_ to get free.

_Yes, but you don't have your strength and you can't focus on anything. You aren't going to be able control your gifts, and when you blow up that thing on top of you, you will send a whole bunch of sharp fragments exploding into the air… and they will fall on you. Michael, _think_. Use your head._

"Maxwell…?"

He struggled to reach his eyes, wanting to wipe away the grit and blood that was obscuring his vision. He managed to get his left arm close to his chin, but not closer. Not close enough.

He sagged against the ground, and struggled to take a deep breath.

"Michael? Oh, God… _Michael_…"

This time it was Tess. He closed his eyes. Why wouldn't they leave him alone? He didn't want to talk to them right now. It wouldn't do any good. He had to focus on Nicolas. He had to fight Nicolas. He had to stop Nicolas.

He had to protect the others.

"Michael. Can you hear me?"

His eyes snapped open. That was Tess again…

But the voice _wasn't_ in his head.

A figure stood in front of him. It wasn't clear, but he could just make out the outline of curls. And as he struggled to focus, to see what was right in front of him, two blue eyes swam into view.

"Tess?" he whispered, his voice scratchy.

Tess turned away. "Max! Max, over here. _Now_!"

* * *

The world had been torn apart at the seams.

It was the only explanation.

The world had been torn apart and turned inside out and dissected. The air was filled with smoke and smog and dust and the sky was streaked with red. Red of fire, red of morning light, red of blood. Nothing made sense. Nothing at all. How could this be the end?

Liz was only dimly aware of Max kneeling by her feet, of Michael's bruised and battered body trapped under the overturned car, of Tess' frantic attempts to harness enough power to free them.

Her hands were covered in blood. Literal and metaphoric.

She had _killed_ Khivar.

And not with her powers. Not with a blast of energy, not with electricity, not with something foreign, alien, inhuman.

She had killed him with her hands. She had picked up a rock and smashed it down into his body, destroying him. He was gone. Dead.

Her stomach heaved and twisted and she blinked rapidly to clear the burning tears.

They still hadn't found Isabel.

A figure moved to stand beside her, and she looked up and saw Ahab. His body loomed above her, and his expression was grim. Fierce. Frightening. There was something about his eyes, something cold and furious and she wondered if she would see the same expression in Max's eyes when he turned to look at her.

Was this what war did to people? Was this how everything ended? In depression-laden victory?

How was this winning?  
How had she not known that the end would feel like this?

Ahab extended his hand and the vehicle in front of them lifted into the air and tumbled away from Michael. Exposing his crushed body, the broken bones, the blood pooling by his lips. But Max still there, hands outstretched, powers focused on Michael, on saving him.

Liz looked at Ahab again. "Did many… survive?" she asked, and gestured with one hand towards the destroyed compound.

She couldn't look at it. couldn't face it. Couldn't bring herself to see…

"Some," Ahab answered. "But not many."

"If the FBI hadn't…" Liz started, but Ahab interrupted her.

"We wouldn't have won. We killed Khivar. But it wouldn't have been enough. You all would have died as well. If your government hadn't…" He stopped, choking on the words, and Liz lowered her gaze. There was a moment of silence, and then he said, "It was a good plan."

"It _killed_ people," Liz whispered, horrified. How could anything that caused so much damage, so much destruction, so much _pain_, be considered good?

"So did we," Ahab answered.

She could feel his eyes on her, watching her, weighing her, assessing her. She didn't know what to say to him, didn't know how to explain what she felt. Every flickering bit of triumph within her died almost as soon as she felt it. How could she feel victory in the wake of so much damage? How could she be thankful that she was still alive when so many others were dead?

How could Ahab talk about this like it was _normal_?

"Kristalia didn't think you were ready," Ahab said. "And… and perhaps she was right. Perhaps none of you were ready for this. For what a war costs. For what it takes." A pause, then, "But she's dead, so I suppose I will never have the chance to tell her that."

Liz's anger flared. "How can you say that so calmly?" she spat, lifting her gaze to meet his stony look.

A faint emotion lingered in his eyes and then was gone. "We all knew what we were fighting for. There was not a single person here who was not willing to lay down his or her life for this."

"It doesn't make it…" she stopped, couldn't think of the right word. _Fair? Right? Okay_? "It hurts. It should hurt. And you're talking about this like…" She stopped again.

His eyes burned. "I knew them. I trained them, I directed them. For decades. I knew the ones who fought and died tonight, and you probably can't even tell me their _names_. So don't presume to think that you care more about them than I do. Don't act as though their sacrifice is hurting you more than me." A pause, a heavy sigh. "Kristi was right. None of you were ready."

Liz opened her mouth to reply, and then Michael was groaning and crawling to his hands and knees and she turned her attention away from Ahab. Max's expression was one of stark relief – but was there something else in his eyes, something she didn't like? – and Tess had wrapped her arms around Michael in a tight hug, and wasn't that just incredibly out of character for the petite blonde?

Michael scratched an eyebrow. "Thanks, Maxwell," he said in a low voice. And then he looked past them, looked at the ruins of the compound, and his face set into hard lines.

Tess reached up and touched her ear. "Michael's fine," she said, and it took Liz a moment to realize she was talking to Alex and Maria through her still working earpiece. "Yes," Tess continued. "Yes, he was injured, but Max healed him." She stopped, her lips thinning into a straight line, and she spoke again, her voice was tight. "No, we haven't found Isabel yet."

* * *

_Fine_ was not the word Michael would have used to describe himself, but he wasn't going to argue with Tess. Not right now, not when he couldn't even begin to tear his eyes away from the sight before him.

The compound was destroyed. The desert was littered with scattered debris, with rocks and chunks of metal and cement and brick and cars and motorcycles and burning rubber.

And he didn't know where Isabel was.

This was wrong. This was so completely wrong.

He could feel Rath inside of him. The commander was taking everything in stride, taking the losses and the destruction as the normal byproducts of war. Collateral damage. It didn't slow him down, it didn't stop him. It didn't phase him. This was what happened in his life, this was what he was used to seeing. He accepted it and moved on.

But Michael wasn't completely Rath, and he couldn't just…

Oh, God…

He doubled over and clutched at his sides as his stomach twisted and turned and bile rose in his throat.

He had barely stopped to think during the fighting. He had moved quickly from one battle to the next, ignoring the skins that had fallen all around him. Ignoring the _Royalists_ who had fallen around him. He'd had one task – eliminate Khivar – and everything else had been unimportant in comparison.

He'd protected the others as best he could. Max, Isabel, Tess, Liz…

But beyond that, he hadn't cared. He'd been cold and unemotional and calculating. He'd been a solider.

He'd been Rath.

And now he finally had the chance to stop, to think, to remember what he – what _Rath_ – had done.

Tess grabbed his arm. "Get up," she said, her voice hard. "Come on, Michael. Get up." He could see her fear and her horror written clearly on her face, but underneath that, he saw her determination. "Come on," she said again. "We have to find Isabel."

He nodded and willed himself to move on. Just until they found Isabel. He had to pull himself together, he had to _stay_ together, until she was safe. He could not afford to fall apart right now. Not until they had Isabel.

He had to be strong.

He had to be Rath.

He could face the consequences of that later.

Ahab was at his side, looking down at Tess. "We don't have a lot of time. The explosion will have been felt by many others. Humans may be here soon. Reporters, other government officials… You must find the Princess quickly."

Tess nodded and detached herself from Michael. She moved quickly, searching through the rubble. Max and Liz were hunting as well, each of them periodically calling out to Isabel. But it was a waste of time, Michael knew, because if the hybrid Princess had been able to answer them, she would have done it already.

He turned, and something caught his eyes. There were very few others still moving, still alive, but one figure was slipping away from them, moving between twisted cars and piles of bricks. As if sensing his eyes on her, the figure turned, and they locked gazes.

"Courtney," Michael said.

The blonde stared at him for a long moment. She was too far away for him to attack her with any reasonable assurances of success. He was weak and tired and she looked relatively uninjured. And she'd always been far more powerful than any of them had realized.

But she was still close enough that he could see her clearly. Her blonde hair floating in the wind, her pale eyes fixed on him.

"Michael?" Max called. Michael turned. Max was staring at him with concern, clearly unsure what it was that had Michael so preoccupied. Michael turned to gesture in the direction he had seen Courtney, but she wasn't there anymore.

He blinked, confused.

"Courtney," Michael said, scratching his eyebrow. "She was here. I just saw her. She… she was here."

Max hesitated, looking torn, but then resolutely shook his head. "Let her go. Finding Isabel is more important," he said firmly.

Michael nodded in agreement. "Yeah."

It didn't seem right, though. Courtney had killed Jim Valenti, had nearly killed Alex, and those actions had almost completely torn apart the group. She had killed Trevor only moments after he had finally declared his full loyalty to Michael, to his brother. She had used them, manipulated them, betrayed them… and she was going to go free.

But they had to find Isabel.

* * *

And they did find her.

Her body was underneath an avalanche of bricks and rocks not far from where Michael had been trapped. Her body had somehow miraculously survived relatively intact. There were a few clearly visible cuts and bruises, and blood smeared across her shirt and arm. But it didn't look to bad.

And yet…

There was a large gash running across her forehead and blood mattered into her blonde hair. Her pulse was weak and her breathing was uneven.

Her eyes were closed.

"Isabel, look at me," Max said, leaning over her, resting his hands on her shoulders. "Open your eyes."

He could see her lids flicker, could see her trying to obey his request…but she didn't seem to have the strength.

He shook his head in denial. This couldn't be happening. It _couldn't_. It was simply not possible that they would find his sister alive, and yet she would be dying right in front of him and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

She _had_ to open her eyes.

"Max…" Liz started, and he turned to look at her.

"I can't… if she doesn't open her eyes, I can't form a connection. I can't…" He wiped angrily at his eyes, brushing away the tears. "I need the connection to be able to heal her."

"But you've healed other people when they weren't conscious," Liz protested quietly.

"Isabel dream-walked them. That's how the connection was made," Tess answered for Max, and he was suddenly glad that she was there to explain to Liz, because he didn't think he could form coherent thoughts.

"But what about you?" Liz asked, looking at Tess. "Can't you form the connection? You've got mental powers, too."

"Gifts," Tess corrected softly.

Isabel had always insisted on calling them gifts.

What kind of gift was this? What kind of gift gave him the ability to help people and then forced him to watch…

No. _No_.

She would open her eyes. He would form the connection. He would heal her. That was it, that was the only way.

He leaned over her again. "Isabel. Izzy, please… listen to me. I know it hurts, I know you're tired, but I need you to…"

"Why can't Tess…" Liz started again.

"Be quiet," Max hissed. He couldn't take any distractions. He had to focus on Isabel. He couldn't let her just fade away, couldn't let her slip through his fingers.

Liz's expression went from surprise to anger but Max didn't take his eyes off of Isabel.

"Mind-warp is about deception," Tess answered Liz's question. "It's not about making connections. At least not the kind needed for healing."

Max stared numbly at Isabel's pale face.

Michael was kneeling in the dirt next to her, cradling her head in his hands. His expression looked so lost, so confused, so bewildered… so not Michael. It took Max's breath away and left him feeling empty and hopeless all at once.

"What about what I can do?" Liz questioned. "Can you form the connection that way?"

Max looked at her, then looked at Tess. Tess shrugged. They had no idea. No one knew much of anything about Liz's new gifts. Everything they knew about their own abilities had come from the practice, from trial and error, from guesses based on hands-on experimentation. Liz's abilities were new, and all they knew about them they had learned from Courtney.

And wasn't that just ironic?

But a new voice said, "It won't work, either."

Max looked up a Ahab. "We should at least try."

Ahab shrugged. "Try if you must. But it won't work. Healing is essentially a two-way connection. You give a part of yourself when you heal. Liz's abilities are one-sided. She takes things from other people's minds but does not give back anything of her own. They are not compatible. You cannot use her to form the connection." He hesitated, then added, "I will be right back."

Max looked down at his own hands. They were covered in dirt and blood. His nails were chipped and the palm of one hand was badly scratched and scraped.

He felt numb. Disconnected. Everything was disjointed and made no sense.

How could this be happening?

Isabel wasn't so badly hurt that they had reason to fear immediate death. Her heartbeat was strong and her breathing was even. But she was not conscious, and Max knew that with head injuries, the longer a person didn't wake up, the less likely it was that they ever would.

She _had_ to wake up.

"We can't take her to a hospital," Michael said, desperation creeping into his tone. "What do we do?"

How could they be this helpless?

It wasn't supposed to end like this. It _wasn't_.

"Izzy," Max practically screamed, his fear turning into anger and exploding from him. "Open your eyes!"

They needed to get her medical attention. They needed to check for other broken bones, for internal bleeding, for anything else that could cause problems, cause damage, threaten her life.

But how?

"We have to take her home," Tess said finally. "We don't have a lot of time. We don't want to stay here much longer. People are going to come investigate, I'm sure of that. We need to just… we need to go, and then we'll… we will figure it out…"

She was crying. Her words came out in uneven bursts, and tears were slipping from her eyes and cascading down her cheeks. And Max was suddenly reminded of the night that Jim had died, of finding her sitting in the parking lot outside the hospital watching the rain splash in puddles along the cracked cement.

Max stood up. The darkness inside of him, the feeling that had been hidden in the background as they frantically searched for Isabel, the emotions he had been able to temporarily ignore, were back now. And they were strong. They were seeping into everything, darkening his vision and filling him with fury.

Isabel was his sister. She had betrayed him. Or, rather, Vilandra had betrayed him. But it didn't change the fact that she was his _sister_. And nobody got to take her away from him. Not Khivar, not the FBI, not the other skins or Nicolas or the dupe Rath…

_No one_.

"Isabel! Look at me!"

Her eyelids fickered again. But yelling wouldn't do any good, wouldn't let her wake up, wouldn't let him save her. He needed a connection, needed…

"Let me."

Max froze, his hands extended over Isabel, and lifted his eyes towards the person standing in front of him. Michael tensed and Liz's mouth dropped open and Tess looked as though she was about ready to throw all caution to the wind and attack.

"Courtney?"

Ahab was standing behind her. He had one hand wrapped firmly around her arm, and his face was set into a dangerously determined expression. Courtney looked torn between mutinous and resigned, but there was something else in her eyes.

Exhaustion.

"Get away from her!" Michael snarled. "I am not letting you anywhere near Isabel."

"She can help you," Ahab said. "She can form the connection for you. That's what you want, isn't it? To save her? To heal her?"

"She betrayed us, she killed Jim," Tess snarled. "Why would we trust her now?"

"No terms to lay down?" Liz sneered with a bitterness that Max had never heard before. "No deal to make? Why are you just offering this for free?"

Courtney wrenched her arm out of Ahab's grip. "Khivar's dead. I already got what I wanted."

"I don't trust her," Max said flatly, looking at Ahab. "Can she just do this? Form a connection? How do you know? How do you know what powers she has? How do you know she won't betray us and hurt Isabel? How can you ask me to trust her?"

They had _no idea_ what Courtney was capable of.

"I'm not asking you to trust her," Ahab said. "I'm asking you to trust me."

Ahab had helped them plan this battle. Ahab had taught them, trained them, strategized with them. Ahab had fought by their sides, had risked his life for them.

Max hesitated, then slowly nodded.

Courtney knelt down next to him and placed a hand on Isabel's forehead, just below the bloody gash. Then she took Max's arm with her free hand, her fingers wrapping around his skin.

The connection formed almost immediately, and his mind was flooded with images of Isabel even as his fingers began to heat with a healing warmth.

He felt Courtney drop his hand and was dimly aware of her stepping backwards, fading away. Michael, Tess, and Liz were too focused on Isabel to notice, to stop her, and Max couldn't break the healing to call out a warning.

And Ahab didn't particularly seem to care.

Courtney was gone – _again_ – but it didn't matter, because Isabel's eyes were open and she was staring up at Max.

* * *

The FBI knew who they were.

Tess couldn't get that thought out of her mind. She couldn't ignore it, couldn't forget it, couldn't pretend it didn't terrify her. The others hadn't talked about it, hadn't discussed what it meant for them. In all the chaos and all the panic, it was as if they didn't really even notice.

She noticed.

And she remembered.

She remembered the brilliant blaze of white that burned into her eyes, she remembered the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, she remembered her own pain and anguish and Pierce's sadistic smile.

She remembered the white room.

The FBI knew who they were.

The FBI had tried to save them. Or, at least, the FBI had given them the chance to save themselves. To get out before the place exploded. Did that mean something? Did that mean that they were safe, that they wouldn't be hunted?

Or did it just mean that they had served their purpose in leading the FBI to the skins – had they been the ones to do that or had the FBI found out some other way – and the FBI was temporarily declaring a truce?

And for how long? How quickly would news of their existence spread? How long would it take for another Pierce to come chasing them?

How long?

The FBI knew who they were.

It shouldn't be possible. They had been careful… hadn't they?

The FBI hadn't seemed to concerned in protecting them. They had obviously wanted to destroy the skins, but they did not appear to care who died in the process. Did they know about the war? Was this their way of ending it?

Why were they even involved?

How had they learned the truth?

What did it mean?

Courtney was somewhere out there, and Liz was falling apart even if she wouldn't say anything about that, and Michael looked as though he was only seconds away from a completely breakdown, and God only knew what was happening to Max.

And the FBI knew who they were.

* * *

Next Chapter: Of Good and Evil

Due: Sun 6/19


	41. Good and Evil

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

* * *

Chapter Forty-One: Good and Evil

"Oh, thank God!"

Maria was out of her seat before the door of the UFO Center had fully opened, and raced up the stairs without hesitation or second thought. She flung her arms around Michael, registering with some surprise the way he stiffened for a moment before returning the embrace. She tilted her head up to look at him, and saw something worrisome in his expression.

But before she had a chance to ask what was wrong, before she had the opportunity to even think about what she was seeing, Liz was pushing through the door as well, and Maria felt another surge of relief.

Her best friend and her boyfriend were both alive.

She enveloped Liz in a hug which the brunette willingly returned.

"You are never doing that again," Maria said, her voice muffled in Liz's shoulder. "Never. Never, do you hear me? Never! What _happened_? The explosion… we heard, but we didn't know… I am so happy to see you all. Oh, God, Liz, you have _no idea_ how worried I was."

She knew she was rambling. She couldn't quite help it, though. The words were tumbling out of her lips and no one else was speaking, no one was stopping her, and so she just kept going, letting her voice fill up the silence.

"Is it over? Is it all over? Did Khivar… is he gone? What happened? What was the explosion? Lizzie?"

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Alex standing behind her, shaking his head in amusement at her nearly incoherent babbling. But then he was looking past her at Isabel, his attention drawn away by the statuesque blonde's disheveled state.

And Maria stopped talking long enough to look at the group. To really look at them.

Michael hadn't moved since she hugged him. He was standing tall and straight, and his eyes were haunted. He looked weary – and not just in a physical sense. There were not cuts or bruises on his skin, but there was blood on his clothing, and Maria knew the absence of wounds was merely a sign that Max had healed him, not that he had escaped unscathed.

Max was standing behind Michael, his arm around Isabel's shoulders, keeping her upright. She looked the worst of the group, though again, there were no physical marks on her. Except the blood. In her hair, on her clothing. Blood and dirt and dust. She was leaning heavily against Max, and she was looking only at Alex. She looked tense, as though she was struggling with some internal battle, as though it physically _hurt_ to keep herself present in the conversation.

But it was the look in Max's eyes that terrified her the most. Maria had never seen it before, not even when Max was acting like a spoiled, arrogant brat… like Zan. She couldn't begin to describe it, but it sent chills down her spine.

Tess seemed to be okay, though. She looked tired, just like the rest of them, and there was blood on her clothing as well. She was preoccupied, her mind clearly on far away thoughts, but there was darkness in her expression, nothing hanging over her like a dismal cloud.

"What happened?" Alex asked softly, moving to Isabel's side and pulling her away from Max, wrapping her in his own arms. "We lost touch with you all – except Tess – after the explosion. And there was so much chaos. We didn't know…"

"The FBI blew up the compound," Michael said, his voice hollow. "That was their method of dealing with the problem. They just… they killed everyone. Only a few of us got out…" He trailed off and scratched his eyebrow, looking almost _lost_. And that scared Maria far more than she wanted to admit.

"Khivar?" Alex prompted.

"He's dead," Liz said flatly. "I killed him. He's… he's gone. We won." There was something disbelieving in her voice, and Maria shared the sentiment whole-heartedly. Her mouth dropped open, forming a wide circle, and she merely gaped at her best friend.

"_You_ killed him?" Alex repeated, surprised.

Liz looked away. "Yeah…" she murmured.

Maria glanced to Max, expecting him to say something, to offer some comfort, some way to ease the heartache that Liz was so clearly feeling. But the hybrid King merely stood there, mutely staring at Liz.

"I really hope the FBI has a good cover story," Liz said after a pause, "because people are going to notice what happened."

"The skins will dissolve," Max said, "and Ahab and a few others stayed behind to find the bodies of the Royalists and… and bury them. But the building… someone _is_ going to notice that."

"I'm sure they have a plan," Alex replied in what he clearly intended to be a reassuring tone. "The FBI wouldn't do something like this unless they knew how to cover it up."

"Is the fact that the FBI has a plan supposed to make us more or less worried?" Tess asked dryly.

Maria looked at her, thought of the white room, and looked away.

"We need to change. Clean up, go home… pretend like everything is normal," Max said. "We need to…" He ran a hand through his hair and took a shaky breath. "We need to get back into our normal routine."

"Normal," Michael scoffed. "Right."

"Who... who else survived?" Alex asked, looking from Michael to Max.

"Ahab," Max said. "Some skins, but Ahab said he'd… take care of them. Some other Royalists. Just a few… maybe six or seven… God, I don't even know their _names_."

"And Courtney," Michael added.

"_Courtney_ survived? She got away?" Maria demanded angrily, fury rising within her. If everyone else had died, why did Courtney survive? How could the rebel skin who had caused so much pain and so much grief get away with everything she had done? How could she live when so many others had lost their lives?

It wasn't fair.

No one said anything.

"Let's go home and change and… Max and Isabel can call their parents, Tess can call Kyle. I'm sure they'll want to know that it's… over." Michael scratched at his eyebrow. "We can meet at my apartment in the morning."

"It practically _is_ morning," Alex pointed out, nodding his head towards the still open door, towards the faint light of the sun starting its rise. A few more hours, and it would be bright.

How had everything happened so quickly?

"We can meet later in the morning, then," Michael said a bit dismissively. "I need some sleep."

Maria opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to think of something to say. But she remained quiet, unable to come up with the right words, and the moment seemed to slip by. She knew if she didn't say something now, didn't address the emotions that were hanging over everyone, suffocating them, she might not get another chance. But what could she say?

When had words ever failed her this much?

She shook her head. Was this victory? Because it was feeling a lot more like defeat.

* * *

The ringing of the phone interrupted Kyle's fairly pleasant dream, and he just barely managed to open his eyes and groped blearily for the buzzing nuisance. His fingers closed over cool metal and he flipped the phone open and held it against his ear without bothering to check caller ID.

"Hm… 'ello? Whozit?"

"Kyle?"

Tess' voice woke him fully, and he jolted upright. "What is it? Are you okay?" he demanded, his eyes moving automatically to his bedside clock.

"Did I wake you?" Tess asked.

Kyle frowned. "It's five in the morning, Tess. _Of course_ you woke me."

"Oh. Right." A pause. "Sorry."

"Is everything alright?"

There was a heavy sigh from the other end of the line. "Everything's fine, Kyle. It's… it's over."

"Over?" Kyle repeated, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. "What do you mean? You mean it's… the fighting is all… done? Your enemies are… gone?" He meant to say dead, but the word didn't quite make it from his lips, and he changed it in the last minute. Something about Tess' tone was unnerving him, but he wasn't sure what to make of it.

"The skins are. I don't know about the FBI. That might be a different issue."

"The FBI?" Kyle repeated. "_They're_ involved? But you haven't… I thought they hadn't been around since…"

"They're around now," Tess said flatly.

"Are you in trouble? Will they come after you?"

"We're not sure yet," Tess answered slowly. "They helped us… sort of. They saved us from getting killed. Although possibly they were only keeping us alive so that they could capture us and…" She stopped abruptly. "Never mind."

Kyle pulled the blankets more tightly around him and tried to think of what to say. Tess sounded so exhausted, and he knew that she had been up all night fight a war – a _war_, and how incredibly absurd was that? – but there was something else.

"What was it like?" he asked finally.

"They… the FBI… they just… there was an explosion. Like a bombing. We were able to get out in time, but… but a lot of others didn't."

"But the four of you are okay? And Liz, Maria, and Alex?"

"We're alive," Tess replied, and again, Kyle could hear the hesitation in her voice, could sense all the things she wasn't saying.

"And it's over?" Kyle pressed. "So I can come back now? There's still a few days before the quarter starts up again here, I could visit…"

"But the FBI is still here," Tess interrupted. "It's really not… it's not a good idea for you… it's not safe."

"Are you sure…? I mean, if you wanted me to be there… I know it's not safe, but still…"

"It's fine. I mean… we won. Everything's okay."

"Oh." Kyle hesitated, wanting to argue, but then decided against it. He'd come back anyway, regardless of what Tess said now. He could tell by the tone of her voice that everything _wasn't_ okay, no matter how much she might want him to think otherwise.

Max and Isabel had their parents and Liz and Alex. Michael had Maria. And Tess…

Tess had _him_. And he was going to be there for her. He was going to come back to Roswell, at least for a few days, just to see her, just to make sure she was going to be okay in the end. Even if she thought it wasn't safe.

After all, with Tess, it was always better to ask for forgiveness after the fact than permission beforehand.

* * *

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Khivar's face. It swam in front of her, sometimes indistinct, sometimes far too vividly clear. The nightmares she had expected didn't come – but not because they weren't there, lingering in her subconscious. She didn't dream because she didn't sleep.

_Couldn't_ sleep.

Every time she closed her eyes she saw Khivar's face.

Liz forced her eyes open and stared up at the ceiling of her room. She was lying on her bed, trying to figure out how their triumph had so quickly unraveled into this desperate and horrific sense of defeat.

She wished Max was with her. It was selfish, she knew, because Isabel was the one who had nearly died, and Max had to take care of her. He also had to call his parents right away, because he had given his word that he would do so, and they were probably anxiously waiting, counting every single minute until they got confirmation that their children were alive.

But that left her alone, lying on her bed, staring blankly at nothing and thinking of Khivar.

Of his body, crumbling, turning into dust. Of the feel of the stone in her hand, of the force that reverberating up and down her arm as she struck him – _killed_ him.

Of his mocking laughter, of the way he loomed over her, threatening to kill her. Of his cold words, of his cruel smile, of his leering gaze fixed on Isabel and his ruthless and nearly overwhelming power.

There was a faint knock, a rap of knuckles on her window and she sat up quickly, her heart racing at the thought that maybe it was Max, that maybe he had come…

And she tried to keep the disappointment at bay when she saw that it was Alex instead.

She climbed out of bed and crossed to the window. Pulling it open, she gestured for him to enter. He scrambled through and smiled at her, but the smile faltered. He seemed to sense what she was thinking, because he sighed and said, "Sorry I'm not Max."

Liz walked back to her bed and perched on the edge. "I wasn't expecting him," she said, trying to feign disinterest.

Alex wasn't fooled. "What happened, Liz? I could see it… something happened to him. To all of you."

"You mean besides a war?" Liz demanded bitterly, and then felt instant guilt as Alex flinched. She hadn't meant to sound quite so vitriolic, and whatever she was feeling, she knew it wasn't fair to take it out on him. "Sorry," she muttered, and ducked her head.

Alex sat down next to her. "Isabel was in pretty bad shape," he said, "and Max had to call his parents. It's not like… it's not like he _forgot_ about you."

Liz let out a breath. "I know." And she did know. After all, he had spent most of the night protecting her, fighting closer to her, next to her, never leaving her side.

She closed her eyes and almost immediately Khivar's face came into view.

She forced her eyes open and stiffened, then leaned over and clutched at her knees as her stomach heaved. She felt hot.

"Liz?"

"I'm okay," she whispered, hearing the concern and fear in Alex's tone and wanting to reassure him, wanting to make him believe that nothing was wrong, that she would somehow just _get over_ this. She blinked once or twice, then slowly sat up straight again and looked at him. "Aren't your parents going to wonder where you are?"

"They think I'm at Michael's, remember. Guy's night or something like that. It's fine, Liz. And I just…" Alex shrugged. "I just wanted to see how you're doing."

"I'm tired," Liz said succinctly. "That's how I'm doing. That's how I'm feeling."

"Then you should sleep," Alex replied. "That's what people usually do when they're tired."

"I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see…" She faltered, looked away. She didn't want to burden Alex with her morbid thoughts. He already had enough to worry about with Isabel practically falling apart. And sometimes she thought that Alex was the only one in the group who was still able to think logically and rationally in a crisis. With the FBI in town, they might need that.

It wasn't certainly more important than her inability to sleep.

She tried to think about something other than Khivar, but no other thoughts would enter her mind.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" Alex pried gently. "Sometimes it helps to talk about things."

Liz shook her head. "There's nothing," she said, and she silently wished that it was Max sitting next to her instead.

But then she thought of Max, of the way his eyes had changed, of the power that had warmed around him, clinging to him. And without really knowing what she was saying, or even why, she opened her mouth and started to speak.

"Khivar was threatening to kill me. And Max… he changed. Something happened to him. I can't… I can't explain it. It was like Zan… but worse. The anger, the rage… the _power_… I've never seen him like that. And it… it scared me. It still scares me."

"Are you afraid of Max?" Alex asked curiously.

"No," Liz said instantly. Then she hesitated, and corrected. "Yes. Maybe." She sighed. "I don't know. I'm not afraid of him, of _Max_. I'm afraid of… of what happened to him."

"But you wish he was here right now. You'd rather be talking to him than to me." It wasn't a question, and Liz wondered if she should feel guilt at how transparent she apparently was. Alex could clearly tell that he was, at least at the moment, only second-best.

And yet he was the one who had taken the time to check on her. And all she could do was wish for someone else, someone she might actually be afraid of.

She gave a bitter laugh. "I'm screwed up, I know."

She didn't say the rest of what she was thinking. Max's transformation had happened because she had been in danger. All that rage, all that fury… it had been about protecting her. The knowledge made her feel a very little bit better, to know just how much he loved her, how much he was willing to do to keep her safe.

And it also made her feel worse. Because he had done this for her, and in some twisted way, didn't that make her responsible for the haunted look currently residing in Max's eyes?

Alex smiled tentatively, then said in a serious tone, "You really need to get some sleep."

"I keep thinking about Khivar," she murmured. "I see his face. And I'm worried if I sleep, I'll just… I'll get trapped in a nightmare. I'll never wake up." She rolled her eyes. "I mean, I know, _logically_, that that won't happen, but…"

"I felt that way all the time," Alex said. "After the coma, after Courtney… I was terrified to sleep. Afraid I wouldn't wake up again."

Liz nodded mutely and listened to Alex as he continued.

"I'd close my eyes and I'd see Courtney's face…or… or Sheriff Valenti falling to the ground and I'd… I was always screaming in my nightmares. I was always trying to save the Sheriff, but I could never… And sometimes I'd see Courtney attack you and Maria… or Isabel… I was always helpless. Or sometimes I'd see Tess and Kyle and they would be… standing there, but the Sheriff's grave, and… they'd be yelling at me, blaming me for not being able to… Those were always the worst… And I was always so terrified that I… that I wouldn't wake up again… that I'd be stuck in those nightmares forever."

Liz leaned against Alex. "But you woke up," she murmured.

"Yes," Alex agreed, wrapping an arm around her. "The nightmares always ended. I _always_ woke up."

"But this isn't a nightmare, Alex," she whispered. "This is reality. I killed Khivar and Max is falling apart and the FBI is here and I'm… I'm not just going to wake up."

* * *

"Michael? Michael… come on. Talk to me."

Michael groaned inwardly. He still wasn't entirely sure what it was that had made him agree to Maria's request that she accompany him back to the apartment. Maybe it was the fact that, despite her incessant questions, some part of him did want the company because otherwise he would be left alone with his dismal and moody thoughts. Maybe it was a bit of jealousy because Max and Isabel were rushing off to tell their parents and Tess was going to call Kyle and he was left without any family who cared whether or not he was still alive.

Or maybe it was the simple fact that he wasn't entirely sure he would have been able to stop her.

But there she was, standing in the middle of the apartment with her hands on her hips and _that_ look in her eyes – the defiant one, the one that told him she wasn't going anywhere until she got her way – and he wanted nothing more than to ignore her and go to sleep.

Of course, he suspected that it wouldn't be a peaceful night of sleep. How could it be, with everything that they had seen?

"Michael."

He looked at her. "There's nothing to talk about," he said.

"I want to know. I want to help…"

"No," Michael cut in before Maria could finish her statement. His tone was harsher than he had intended, and Maria flinched, hurt appearing briefly on her face. But he thought of the burst of light, and waking up to pain and the smell of blood and the knowledge that so many other people were dead, and he _couldn't_ tell her.

He let out a breath. She wasn't there, she hadn't seen it. And he was glad of that, because he would never have wished that on her.

Ever.

"You don't want to know," he said softly. "Trust me, Maria; you _don't_ want to know."

She opened her mouth to say something, and then stopped. There was a look of comprehension in her eyes, and then she said in an equally gentle tone, "But I do want to help."

He had killed. He had felt Rath inside of him. He had become a soldier, a general… It wasn't him, not really.

Except that it was. It had been his mind and his body and his powers, and even if he felt Rath inside of hm, it didn't change anything. It didn't change what he had done or what had been done to him…

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts. Trying to make sense of the jumbled mess inside of his brain. He could still picture it so clearly: the destroyed landscape, the broken bodies, the fear and the blood, Isabel's still body… and those few moments when he thought they might not be able to save her.

And Courtney.

He wasn't sure how to accept that entire situation. Wasn't sure what to make of the fact that Courtney had saved Isabel or that Ahab had trusted her enough to ask her for help.

He wasn't entirely sure what to make of Ahab himself.

Maria was at his side, and she rested a hand on his arm. "You can tell me," she said, her tone quiet, but underlined with steel. "I don't need details. I don't need… it doesn't need to be specific, but you _can_ talk. I can see that this is… I can see how upset you are, Michael. So _talk_ to me. Don't shut me out."

"The FBI destroyed everything," Michael said numbly. "They probably saved our lives. They certainly ended the battle earlier than it would have ended without them. But they… they just… I don't even know how they _knew_ about this. Have they been spying on us?" He shook his head. "I just… I can't even believe that it's over."

Of course, it wasn't over. There was still Antar to worry about, and the battle there. But he didn't want to think about that yet, he didn't want to think about whether or not he would have to leave this planet and everything he had ever called home to go fight _another_ war.

He wasn't sure he could make it through that.

At that thought, a dark chuckle escaped his lips. He was so worried about Rath, about what Rath could and would do if necessary, but wasn't it also so obvious that he wasn't his alien predecessor? He couldn't even stomach a battle, but Rath had been the General of an entire army, had been fighting long and bloody wars…

"Michael?"

Maria was watching him with apprehension and concern in her eyes.

He moved away from her, walked towards the sofa. His clothing was still covered in dirt and blood and he needed to change and shower and…

And sleep.

He sat down. He doubted he would be sleeping tonight.

Maria sat down next to him. He wondered if she was silently trying to tell him that she wasn't going to let him ignore her. And that thought brought a smile to her lips, because it wasn't as though he needed her to keep demonstrating her persistence. He knew just how stubborn she could.

It was a trait that both shared, after all.

But she surprised him, as she occasionally could, by saying, "If you really don't want to talk, then we don't have to talk. We can just sit here."

"Yeah…" he murmured. "I'd like that."

She leaned against him, apparently not caring about the dirt or the blood or the smell of the battle still clinging to his clothes, and he wrapped one arm around her shoulders, and they sat in silence.

* * *

Next Chapter: Old Enemies

Due: Thurs 4/23


	42. Old Enemies

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: So, theoretically, we're about five chapters (including this one) away from the end. That might change, depending on whether or not I can get all my loose ends tied up in the next five chapters. But five more is my goal, and then this crazily long story (I can't believe I started writing This Brilliant Dance _years_ ago) will be over…

* * *

Chapter Forty-Two: Old Enemies

"I can't believe he's really dead," Isabel whispered.

It was the fifth time she had said that in the last fifteen minutes, and Max didn't even bother responding to it. They were nearly at Michael's apartment, and though nether of them had slept at all in the few hours since they had left the others, they both felt a little bit more awake.

That could possibly be due to their conversation with their parents. There had been no mistaking the absolute relief in Diane's voice when she answered her phone, and though Philip had said little, his few words had made it clear just how worried he had been. They were on their way home now, ready and willing to take on whatever problems they would face in the effort to finally keep their children safe.

Max had told his father about the FBI. He wasn't entirely sure if it was a good idea, but his father was a lawyer, and, as Tess had pointed out, they still didn't know which side the FBI was on. And Max did have to admit that, even though he was concerned about drawing his father into that struggle, he was also pleased to know he'd have someone to go to for help if the FBI came after them.

He remembered Tess' haunted expression after they had rescued her. He was not going to allow that to happen to anyone else. Not now, not again. Not ever.

Max parked the car and looked up at Michael's apartment building. He had a feeling Maria was already there – or, more accurately, had never left, because he remembered how determined she had been when she followed Michael from the UFO Center – and Tess' own apartment was in the same building. So that left Liz and Alex.

Had they arrived yet?

Isabel pushed the door open and climbed out of the car. She paused for a moment, leaning against the vehicle. "It's over," she whispered. "I can't believe it's _over_."

It was the seventh time she'd said _that_ in the last fifteen minutes.

Max opened his mouth to reply, and then frowned. He _felt_ something, and it didn't take long to figure out exactly what it was. He shook his head, and then looked around, his eyes scanning the area quickly.

"Max?" Isabel asked, frowning at him. "What is it?"

There was a weariness in her voice, and he hated that. He hated the expression on her face, the look of resignation that said nothing – not a surprise attack, not betrayal, not sudden death – would surprise her anymore.

She was his sister. She wasn't supposed to look like that.

"It's nothing," he said, waving away her concerns. "Go on inside. Tell Michael that I'll be up in a minute."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why?"

He looked at her. She had been extraordinarily quiet after the confrontation with Khivar and her own near-death experience. That didn't surprise him, but he did wish he knew what she was thinking. Facing Khivar in her dreams had been bad enough for her, what had it been like to face him in person?

Zan wasn't angry with Vilandra. But Zan was still hurt by her betrayal, still reeling at the fact that his own flesh and blood had turned on him, had sided with the enemy. He – Max – didn't know the details, and the Zan inside of him probably didn't know all of them either.

But the pain was still their, still raw, even after all this time.

But he wasn't Zan. He was Max, and she was Isabel, not Vilandra, and he was trying desperately to cling to that bit of knowledge, to not look at her and see someone else.

She was Isabel, and he was still trying to protect her.

He let out a breath. "I just need a minute," he said finally. "To think. To sort things out before I…"

She gazed at him for a long moment, scrutinizing his features. He had no idea what she saw, but it was apparently enough, because she nodded slowly.

"Fine," she said, and there might have been an edge in her voice, but he wasn't entirely sure.

She turned and walked towards the apartment building, leaving him standing there to watch her.

And under her breath, she muttered, "I can't believe he's _dead_."

Max sighed. He couldn't really believe it, either. But Khivar was dead and the skins on Earth were destroyed, and so that battle was really over.

Of course, there was still all of Antar to worry about.

He closed his eyes briefly, and felt the presence again, drawing closer.

"It doesn't make up for it, you know," he said coolly. "You can't expect us to just ignore everything you did then because of the one good thing you did now."

His remark was met with a light laugh. "Did I ever give you the impression that _your_ opinion mattered to me?"

He opened his eyes and gazed steadily at the woman standing before him. "What do you want, Courtney?"

"Hm… well, this is a change. Ready to sit and talk? And here I assumed you'd just attack me on sight," Courtney answered in a rather bored tone. Max said nothing, refusing to rise to the bait, and she continued after a momentary pause, "I was always very clear about what I wanted. Khivar dead and Rath on the throne."

"And you're here to try to convince me to abdicate? Hand the throne over to Michael?" Max asked. He was sorely tempted to agree, to give Michael the throne and all the responsibilities that went along with it. Clearly, being king was not making him happy.

But he doubted Michael wanted it right now.

"I thought Zan was a bad choice for the throne," Courtney said softly. "And he was. He couldn't hold the factions together, couldn't keep his planet in one piece. I understand that Khivar did a lot of the damage, but if it had been someone else on the throne, Khivar would never have gotten such a large following. If Antarians hadn't been so unhappy…"

"What do you want?" Max spat, his temper rising. There was a flash of something inside of him, an old anger and an old frustration. Courntey had _no idea_ what Zan had tried to do for Antar, so how dare she judge him for it?

But, the little voice inside Max's head pointed out cruelly, he didn't know much about what Zan had done for – or to – Antar, either. What if Courtney was right? What if he had been a lousy king?

"Sometimes," Courtney murmured, "I look at Michael, and I see Rath. Not the dupe, but the real Rath. The General. I see someone who could have sat on that throne and held the planet together." She stared at Max for a long moment, then looked away, and when she spoke, her voice was sad, "But most of the time, I look at him, and I see Michael."

"Well," Max sneered, "it's good that at least one alien out there seems to realize that we aren't the people they remember."

Courtney gave him a bitter smile. "No. You _really_ aren't."

"So you don't like me and you don't like Michael," Max said. "What do you want? Isabel? Tess?"

"I want what is best for Antar," Courtney said bluntly. "That is what I have always wanted. You and I might have different ideas on what exactly that is, but… but I still wanted what was best for the planet. That… _that_ is something I have never lied about."

"I am sure that is a great comfort to Sheriff Valenti," Max snapped. "Or Tess and Kyle."

Courtney flinched. "That was… regrettable," she said, and Max snorted. How could she dismiss life so callously? And how could he have ever trusted her? How could he have ever believed that they were on the same side?

"You betrayed us," Max said forcefully, angrily. "You manipulated us, used us… and then killed the Sheriff when he got in your way. And nearly killed Alex. Saving Isabel doesn't make that all go away. It won't make us forgive you."

"And again," Courtney drawled, "I must point out that I never asked for your forgiveness." She folded her arms over her chest and said, "Here on Earth, it's over. Khivar's skins are dead, Ahab and the few remaining Royalists saw to that. Most of my faction was killed as well, although there are still a few left, and they are no doubt planning to leave this miserable little planet. I understand that you still have the FBI to worry about, but everything else… it's over, Max. You won."

And wasn't it ironic, he thought savagely, that winning hadn't made them happy.

"But Antar… that is something else entirely. There's still a war there, and it is raging. The planet has been torn apart, and the fact that Khivar is dead will not magically end the bitterness and hatred and divisions that have existed for decades. If you go back to Antar, you won't be inheriting a peaceful or prosperous planet. You'll be taking on another war."

Max exhaled sharply. "I know."

"So I am asking you to take a moment and decide whether or not you and the other three reincarnated hybrids are really what is best for Antar," Courtney said.

Max raised his eyebrows. "We're all Antar has," he replied. "They're fighting a war in our name. We can't just abandon them."

"They're fighting a war because you couldn't prevent it the first time around," Courtney retorted. "So what makes you think you'll do any better now?" She paused, and gave a little shrug. "Just think about it, Max. Before you make any decisions, make sure you've truly thought it all through." Then she turned away from him. "Goodbye, Max. I hope we don't cross paths again."

Max's lips quirked into an acidic smile. "Me, too."

* * *

There were six Royals left. Out of forty-nine – well, fifty, including Jared, although he had died several months ago – there were now only six. Two men dressed in black and covered with bruises, an elderly women with a just-barely-healed gash running along the length of one leg, a young boy with a black eye, a woman with scrapes and bruises on her face and arms, and Ahab. They stood awkwardly in Michael's apartment, picking up on the tension in the air. No one seemed to want to speak, to break the fragile peace that had fallen after Max entered the apartment.

They were all there. Liz and Alex were sitting at the table flipping through a newspaper. Tess was leaning against the wall and gazing steadily out the window. Michael and Maria were sitting side-by-side on the sofa, and Isabel was perched on one of the chairs opposite them.

It was Alex who finally broke the silence. "There's nothing in the newspaper about the explosion yet, but they were talking about it on the radio when Liz and I drove over."

Isabel looked at him sharply, frowning a bit at the inclusion of Liz in that sentence. Had Alex spent the night at her house? Or had he picked her up in the morning?

And why did she care either way? It's not like she didn't trust Alex.

She was being ridiculous. And paranoid.

Michael grabbed the remote and flipped on his television, that searched the channels quickly for a news station. Isabel turned away from Alex and Liz and stared at the screen, focusing her attention on the story being told.

A pretty blonde reporter was standing on the edge of the road that twisted towards the destroyed compound. She was a ways away from it, though, and there was clearly a government blockade of some sort preventing her or any of the other reporters from getting any closer. Still, Isabel could just make out the outline of the destroyed compound in the background, and could tell that many of the destroyed vehicles had been moved away.

"…stand-off between a group of known terrorists and the FBI," the reporter was saying. "When the terrorists realized that they would not be able to escape the FBI, they detonated the bombs within the abandoned compound instead of allowing themselves to be arrested and questioned. No FBI agents were hurt in the explosion; however, this act did prevent the government from obtaining any information about allegiances the suspected terrorists might have had."

"Terrorists? In the middle of the desert in New Mexico?" Maria demanded. "Will people actually buy that?"

"People will believe anything," Tess answered softly.

"Besides," Alex added, "with the government accepting involvement in it, the people who don't believe it is terrorists will likely assume it is a cover-up for some kind of government testing. They won't suspect aliens."

"It's New Mexico. It's the Roswell desert. Some people will be suspecting aliens," Isabel countered dryly. In Roswell, there were always the true believes, the people who would suspect aliens of being behind everything, even when there was a perfectly logical and plausible reason for whatever had happened. It was the unfortunate side effect of living in an alien-obsessed town.

"It's a good enough story," Max said with a sigh. "It takes the attention away from us."

"For now," Michael said. "We still don't know what is going to happen with the FBI. They aren't exactly trustworthy."

"It would be prudent to be prepared for any possibility," Ahab agreed gravely.

"If you were not here, they could not find you."

Isabel looked at the Royalist who had spoken. She recognized her vaguely as having been a friend – or wife, possibly – of… oh, what was his name? Patrick, maybe?

It bothered her that she couldn't think of their names. It bothered her that there were only six of them left.

"Lillian is right," Ahab said.

Lillian. Isabel glanced back at her and had a sudden vague memory of the otherwise cold Royalist smiling warmly at Patrick, rolling her eyes at something he had said. But he was dead now, and there was no warmth in her frosty gaze. It was cold, and calm, and determined. She had clearly compartmentalized her feelings of loss and grief and was focusing only on the task at hand.

Isabel wished fervently that she could so the same thing. It would be so useful to simply ignore her emotions, to pretend that they didn't exist, didn't matter. That she wasn't falling apart inside even as she struggled to put up a brave front.

But they were all doing it. She had seen the worry in her brother's eyes, and she had seen other things, too. Things she didn't want to think about. Max was slowly slipping away from her, and she had no idea how to catch him, how to stop him from disappearing. From changing into someone she didn't recognize.

The old fears were there, too. The ones that any mention of Khivar brought up, the ones that tied into Vilandra and the person she had been once. The person she had nearly become again, each time she faced Khivar. Her own insecurities wouldn't leave her alone, and even knowing that Khivar was dead didn't change anything.

"I doubt we can really outrun the FBI," Michael argued.

Max nodded in agreement, looking over at Ahab. "They will follow us. If they are really after us, they will follow us anywhere we go."

"Not if you aren't on the planet," Ahab answered flatly. "They can't follow you to Antar."

Isabel's eyes widened at his words. She looked away from him, towards Max. Her brother was frowning, and there was an assessing look in his eyes, as though he was silently weighing Ahab's statement. But however easily Max appeared to accept the truth of the Royalists statement, Isabel still couldn't agree.

The very thought of leaving Earth sent a shiver of cold down her spine. They had all known it was a very real possibility, but somehow, before the war was fought, before Khivar was killed, the possibility seemed so distant.

Everything was different now.

"We can't just leave," Michael said abruptly. "Not until everything with the FBI has been solved." Isabel watched as his attention moved from Ahab to Maria. "We'd be leaving people in danger."

Ahab narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Do you believe the FBI will target your human friends?"

"Yes," Michael said without hesitation. "Besides, we don't know how much they knew about us. If they know about Parker, about what she can do now," he glanced over at Liz, "they will definitely go after her."

"Michael's right," Max agreed, "and I'm not leaving the three of them or my parents to clean up this mess on their own. It isn't fair to them, and until we know the FBI can be trusted…"

"The FBI _can't_ be trusted," Tess interrupted, spinning around and glowering at Max. "How can you even think that there is a possibility they are on our side?"

Max sighed.

Isabel looked down at the ground, lost in thought. Tess would never trust the FBI, and Isabel couldn't blame her for that. She was a little surprised that any of them were thinking of doing such a thing after everything that had happened, everything the FBI had done to them. Isabel had no idea what the white room was like, but she had seen enough of the pain and fury in Tess' eyes to know that she never wanted to go there.

And she didn't want anyone she cared about to go there, either.

Her gaze slid upwards and landed on Alex. "We can't leave them unprotected," she murmured in agreement.

"Does that mean you don't plan to return to Antar?" Lillian demanded, an edge to her voice. Isabel saw the flare of anger and disbelief, and understood. After all, people Lillian cared about had died fighting to protect the Royal Four, and it wasn't fair to ignore that.

But Isabel didn't want to return to Antar. She didn't want to be a Princess. She didn't want to be Vilandra again.

"What it means," Max said tiredly, "is that we need to figure out what to do about the FBI before we think about Antar. We're not running from this mess, and we can't just ignore it. Not this time."

* * *

The meeting had gone as well as could be expected when no one in the room could agree on anything. It had left Tess with a headache, but at least no one had come to blows. Still, it was evident that Lillian was displeased with their decision to put off talking about the return to Antar, Ahab was torn between his determination to end the war and his desire to respect their wishes and protect the humans who would be left behind, Michael and Isabel were worried about Maria and Alex respectively, and didn't seem to care about much else at the moment, and Max was struggling with whatever inner turmoil had plagued him for the last several hours.

And Liz… Tess had no idea what Liz had been thinking through any of it, but she hadn't missed the way the brunette kept looking at Max with a mixture of longing and fear in her eyes.

They were all so screwed up.

It was now late afternoon and the meeting was over, but all that they had accomplished was an agreement that they needed to find out more about the FBI, and no real consensus on how to go about doing that. They had no leads, no ideas, nothing.

Michael was a man of action, and having no ideas had clearly upset him. Max, too, had been itching to do something, and Tess found that a little surprising and little concerning, given how much he had preferred such reckless action in the past.

The whole thing was a mess. A tangled, jumbled mess without an easy answer.

The knock at the door of her apartment took her by surprise, and she frowned even as she rose to her feet and crossed the room to answer it.

She pulled open the door, and was momentarily speechless.

"Hi, Tess."

"Kyle," she said, blinking a few times. "You weren't supposed to come. There's still… the FBI…"

"I'll take my chances with the Feds," Kyle answered, his tone light and cheerful and just a bit cocky. He held out a wrapped box in one hand and added, "Merry Belated Christmas."

"You got me a present," Tess said, blinking again. "You came all the way here despite the fact that I _specifically_ told you not to come back yet just to bring me a present?"

"Of course not," Kyle replied dismissively. "I came all the way up here to see you. I brought the present so that you would be less angry."

"You really think you can buy me off with gifts?" Tess demanded, hands on her hips.

"Just invite me in and open the present," Kyle said, rolling his eyes. "I can crash on the sofa, right? I know you don't have a guest room, but the sofa is good enough for me." And he stuffed the small box into her hands and pushed past her into the apartment.

Tess shut the door behind her and glared at her brother. He was completely ignoring everything she said, and although that wasn't really a surprise, it was annoying her. Didn't he realize the danger he was in? Didn't he understand that this wasn't over and he couldn't just waltz into Roswell simply because he wanted to?

Of course, that tiny, treacherous voice in the back of her head pointed out that Max and Isabel's parents had returned to Roswell even though the conflict wasn't entirely over, and no one seemed too worried about that.

And she couldn't deny how happy she was to see him.

Still, she had to put up a stern front. "You can't say," she said flatly. "It's not safe. You can't just walk into my apartment and make yourself at home."

Kyle turned to her, eyebrow raised. "Why not?"

"Didn't you hear me?" Tess demanded. "It's not safe."

Kyle let out a long breath. "Just open your present."

Tess gave him one last glare for good measure, then carefully tore off the wrapping paper. She was holding a small black box, the kind one gets at a jewelry store. That alone caused her to frown, because Kyle had never really been known for his fashion sense.

She slowly lifted the lid. Inside, nestled against white cotton, was a bracelet. It had a silver chain connecting several blue beads, each a slightly different hue.

It was stunning.

She looked up at Kyle with accusatory eyes, "There is _no way_ you picked this out yourself."

Kyle tried to look offended, but ruined the whole thing by bursting into laughter. "I got some input from a couple of my friends in San Francisco. Don't worry, Tess. You've insulted my fashion sense enough that I was hardly going to go jewelry shopping without a girl present to give me advice."

"It's beautiful," Tess murmured. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. So… does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?"

Tess pursed her lips. "We'll see," she said icily.

Still, the coldness in her tone was a contrast to the warmth in her eyes and the lump that suddenly formed in her throat. The past several hours had been hell, and the days leading up to the battle had not been much better. She was tired and terrified and filled with too many memories of people dying all around her and the smell of blood and ash in the air. And having Kyle standing there, in front of her, with the stupid grin on his face and the defiant tilt of his chin…

At least she wouldn't have to be alone in an empty apartment.

She swallowed. "Thank you," she said again, and felt the familiar burn of tears in her eyes.

Kyle furrowed his brow in confusion. "It's just a bracelet."

She exhaled slowly. "That's not what I was thanking you for," she replied.

Kyle smiled, comprehension dawning on his features. "It's good to see you, too, Tess," he replied.

* * *

There were no words at all that could properly describe the rush of unadulterated relief Diane felt as she climbed out of the car and saw Max and Isabel waiting for her on the lawn. She had wanted to leave the moment Max and Isabel had called, but Philip had insisted on trivial matters like packing all their belongings and checking out of the hotel. And stopping for gas and food and all the other things that she supposed really were necessary for a several-hour drive back home.

Isabel was in her arms before she could even register the fact that her daughter had moved, and that was how Diane knew that, even if her children had won, they had somehow lost as well.

She hugged Isabel back and looked over at Max. He looked different somehow, although she couldn't place what had changed. He walked towards them, a bit more slowly, a bit more apprehensively, and then Philip reached over and hugged him and Max seemed to relax just a little.

here were so many questions Diane wanted to ask, but now wasn't the time.

And there was also that fear, the one she didn't want to face, didn't want to think about, didn't want to acknowledge. But it wouldn't leave her alone, and it whispered at her even as she hugged Isabel, reminding her that even if she hadn't lost her children in this battle, she would likely still lose them in the end.

The war had been fought and won, and that meant everything had moved one step closer towards the moment when Max and Isabel would have to decide if they were returning to their home planet.

She pushed the bitter thought away. It did no good to think of that now. She wanted to focus on her children, on the fact that they were alive and safe and standing in front of her.

She let go of Isabel, who immediately turned to hug Philip, and held out her arms to Max. Max responded by hugging her with an air of reluctance, and she almost laughed at that. He would never be too old for her to hug him.

"Let's go inside," Philip said. "Max, give your mother a hand with the suitcase."

Max dutifully lifted Diane's suitcase and followed her into the house, with Isabel and Philip trailing behind.

And at least for that moment, there were no words to describe Diane's happiness.

* * *

The next day dawned gloomily. It was raining, a light drizzle that turned everything wet and gray. Max stood at the kitchen window, staring out into the glum winter day, and trying not to think of Courtney, of Ahab and Lillian, of Antar. He couldn't help it, though, and the thoughts slowly and steadily invaded his mind.

He knew he needed to talk to Liz. It hadn't taken much to tell that she was still struggling to accept everything that had happened, everything that she had done. He had seen in her eyes the same feelings of horror and guilt that he had felt after killing Agent Pierce.

But he had also seen the fear that had been there when she looked at him. She was afraid of him, of talking to him, of being with him. He wasn't sure how much of that fear had to do with her own conflicted emotions and how much had to do with him and his actions, and he wasn't really sure he wanted to find out.

Zan thought little of humans. Zan wouldn't have wasted his time trying to sort out this complicated relationship.

Max pushed the thought aside. He wasn't Zan, even if he could feel the influence of his alien half inside him. He was Max, and he loved Liz, and he had to talk to her.

There was a knock at the front door.

Max turned away from the window and walked into the living room. Isabel was already there, had been sitting on the sofa and was now walking towards the door, and his mother appeared a moment later from the hallway. And something inside of him twisted suddenly, sharp and anxious.

A warning.

He opened his mouth to say something, but it was too late; Isabel had already pulled open the door.

There was a man standing on the other side of the door. He was rather nondescript, with brown hair and brown eyes and an average build, and he dressed in a black suit. He held a badge in one hand, and when he lifted it for the others to see, Max read the three letters he had not wanted to see.

FBI.

"Good morning," the FBI Agent said, his eyes moving to Diane. "I was hoping, Mrs. Evans, that I might have a moment of your children's time."

* * *

Next Chapter: The FBI Agent

Due: Sun 6/27


	43. The FBI Agent

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: Sorry for the delay, this was really not an easy chapter to write. But the next one is almost done, so that update should be on schedule.

* * *

Chapter Forty-Three: The FBI Agent

Max sat at the kitchen table, fiddling nervously with his napkin, his eyes never leaving the FBI agent. Isabel was sitting opposite him, her fingers wrapped tightly around a glass of water. Her posture was stiff and her expression wary. Philip sat between Max and Isabel, opposite the FBI agent. Diane stood by the sink, watching all three of them with a calm expression that did not betray any emotion at all. But there was a steeliness in her gaze, something Max had never seen before in his mother, something that indicated just how far she would go to protect her children.

Max let out a breath and twisted the napkin some more.

"You haven't told us your name," Philip said.

"It's unimportant," the FBI agent replied. "You can call me Agent, I will answer to that."

"And if I want to make sure you are actually an FBI agent?" Philip demanded. "What name should I give when I call the FBI with my questions? Or when I contact an investigative reporter."

The FBI agent frowned. "It wouldn't matter. If you called a regular Bureau office, they would likely have no record of me or my associates within the other government organizations. As for an investigative reporter… we both know you aren't going to do that."

"What makes you so sure?" Max asked challengingly.

The FBI agent smiled. "Because that would require explaining why you were interested in the FBI. And any good investigative journalist would do a little background check into you before taking on the research. You would not like that, would you? They might actually find something. And at the very least, I imagine you would hardly be willing to risk drawing more attention to yourselves."

"So you have no name and we can't double-check that you are who you say you are," Philip said sarcastically. "That does not inspire much trust on our part."

"If it would make you feel more comfortable," the FBI agent said mildly, "I would be happy to postpone this conversation while you contact Mr. Guerin and Ms. Harding and have them join us. That way, at least, you would assuredly out-number me."

Max and Isabel exchanged glances, silently communicating with each other, and then Max replied, "We'll call them in a little bit. You said you wanted to talk to us. Why?"

He couldn't leave Michael and Tess out of this – he didn't want to, but even if he had, neither would be particularly thrilled with it, and he didn't want to deal with both of them enraged at the same time and over the same issue – but he also wasn't going to call them until he knew exactly what was going on. If this conversation went downhill, they might need someone on the outside to help.

"I regret that we were unable to discuss our plans with you prior to the airstrike on the compound. It was a rather last-minute decision on our part," the FBI agent said calmly.

"And if my children had not been in contact with Alex Whitman and Maria DeLuca, if you had not had any chance of warning them," Philip said coldly, "what then? Would you have killed them, too? Left them in the building to die with their enemies?"

The FBI agent shifted his gaze to Philip. "Yes," he said bluntly.

Diane inhaled sharply and looked away, anger plain on her face. Isabel's fingers tightened around her glass.

"Fortunately, that unhappy possibility was avoided," the FBI agent continued, "so there is no reason to dwell on what-ifs."

"I find it useful to know how little you value my children's lives," Philip said.

The FBI agent raised his eyebrows. "I understand that your children are important to you, Mr. Evans. Just as they are apparently important to their home planet. But my job is to care about the safety of this country… and possibly the entire world if necessary… and to that end, four children cannot outweigh billions of lives. Neither can the good of… is it Antar?" He paused, and Max's eyes widened at how much this man knew, and the FBI agent continued, "Neither can the good of Antar outweigh the good of Earth. At least not for me."

"So you decided it was acceptable to sacrifice the lives of innocent people?" Diane snapped.

The FBI agent sighed. "Don't pretend that your four children were the only ones who would have been affected by the outcome of this war," he said, his tone becoming colder. "We both know they were not, and I did what was necessary to prevent the destruction of this planet."

Max seethed inwardly at that. It was true, of course, that the FBI's intervention had likely saved them all. The explosion, coupled with Ahab's subsequent actions, had killed all of the skins on Earth. If any of them had been left behind, left alive, there was no way to know the amount of killing they would do.

But the FBI agent's ability to disregard the fact that there were real people fighting this war – people with hopes and dreams and fears, people that _mattered_ – and to only look at the clean, sanitary, bloodless larger picture was unfathomable to him.

"Anyway," the agent continued, "what's done is done. I'm not interested in discussing the past. It is time to figure out how we are going forward from here."

"We?" Isabel repeated, speaking up for the first time. "We aren't planning anything together. You're not a part of this."

The FBI agent sighed. "If you would like for me to leave, I will. I only came because it seemed to me that you might be worried about the FBI involvement in this, and I wanted to figure out a course of action that would both meet my needs and allay your fears. However, if you are uninterested, we can continue our plans without you."

Max narrowed his eyes. Those words were little more than a loosely-disguised threat, and he knew better than to dismiss them. The FBI agent had too many of the cards in this hand, and they couldn't just ignore him.

Still, the veiled threat made him think of their previous interactions with the FBI, made him think of Tess and the white room, and his temper flared.

"I'm surprised you haven't insisted on drugging us before this meeting," Max snapped. "Our past dealings with you all always seemed to involve people trying to capture us."

The agent frowned and lowered his gaze. "The fiasco with Donald Pierce, Jr. was… unfortunate."

"Fiasco?" Isabel drawled. "Yes. Please describe it to Tess in such a way. She'll appreciate that."

The agent ran a hand through his hair. "I was unaware of Pierce's actions at the time. I was not even part of the team involved in tracking the four of you. The Special Unit operated outside of the oversight of the FBI. Many of us, even those with an interest in the supernatural, were unaware of its existence."

"And now you operate outside of the usual oversight of the FBI and most people are unaware of your existence," Max said dryly. "How are you any different than Pierce?"

"I have not attempted to capture you, throw you in a military facility, and experiment on you as though you were a lab rat."

Max flinched. "Why not?" he asked, still unwilling to believe that this agent was somehow different from Pierce.

The older man studied Max for a long moment, then said, "It amounts to little more than torture, and I don't believe in that. If I thought you were a threat to the safety of this country I might have killed you, certainly, but I don't torture people. And neither do my associates."

There were so many questions Max wanted to ask. Who were his associates? Why was he convinced that Max wasn't a threat? How had he learned so much about them?

But it was Isabel who spoke, asking softly, "And what are your plans for the future?"

"Obviously, some of us will need to stay behind to ensure that the public buys our cover-story about the explosion of the compound," the agent replied. "Aside from that bit of damage control, however, most of our efforts will likely be focused on other matters."

"Other matters?" Max repeated questioningly.

The FBI agent nodded grimly. "This… incident… has convinced us of the necessity of preparing – in secret, at least – for encounters with other aliens. It seems unlikely that you are the only ones out there. In the infinity of space, there are others, and should they come to this planet, I would like to believe that some of us would be prepared."

Max looked at Isabel. They knew for a fact that there _were_ other inhabited planets out there, although given the disgust so many seemed to have for Earth, he doubted any of the rulers he had met at the Council in New York City would be likely to invade any time soon. Besides, with Khivar's death and the shift in power that would necessarily follow, they had their own problems to deal with.

Isabel closed her eyes for a moment, looking exhausted and worried.

"We see no reason to engage with the four of you at all," the agent continued. "You will be free to continue your lives without interference from any of us. However, I should warn you that we will not come to your aid if you expose yourselves to the public unless it appears to be a matter of national security on the same scale as this war."

Max snorted. "I think we've had enough of your idea of aid," he said coolly.

The FBI agent raised an eyebrow, but did not comment.

"Who is _we_?" Philip asked. "You keep talking about other people. Your associates. Who else knows about this?"

"There are a handful of us if strategic placements throughout various governmental organizations. The FBI, NSA, CIA, Department of Homeland Security, various branches of the military. A network, if you will. We are quite good at covering our tracks, so you will find no mention of us in any written document anywhere. But we _do_ exist."

"How long has this network existed?" Philip asked.

"Ah… unfortunately, I cannot divulge any information about our origins. Some secrets must stay secret if we are to protect ourselves and our mission."

Max opened his mouth to say something, but then Isabel reached across the table and took his hand. He looked at her in surprise, and she said softly, "It's time to call the others, Max. We've established the basic facts, but the details… everyone has questions, and they should all get a chance to ask."

Max nodded slowly. "You're right. I'll call them."

* * *

She honestly couldn't believe that they were willing to trust a single thing the FBI agent had said. When Max had called and filled her in on all the details, she had immediately agreed to meet at his place, but not because she was actually interested in what the FBI agent would have to say. There was nothing he could promise, no oaths he could swear, that would make her look at him and think of anything other than the white room.

One glance around Max's kitchen, and she could tell that she wasn't the only one who felt that way. Michael was leaning against the sink, glowering at the unnamed man still sitting complacently at the table. Maria was at his side, and her expression wavered between open hostility and apprehension. Isabel, too, looked unwelcoming, but she was also determinedly looking at the floor, refusing to meet anyone's gaze.

On the other hand, Alex and Liz both looked a bit intrigued. There was quite a bit of skepticism in Alex's gaze, but there was curiosity as well. He, at least, was more than willing to hear what the FBI agent had to say. And Liz…

Liz looked thoughtful. And that was a bit worrisome.

Tess sighed. Max had brought them all up to date, with Isabel and Mr. and Mrs. Evans filling in bits and pieces whenever Max hesitated. The FBI agent remained silent through it all, clearly content to let someone else do the talking.

But as soon as the explanation ended, the questions began.

"You expect us to trust you when you won't even tell us your name?" Michael demanded harshly.

"And the fact that you have a secret network spanning every branch of government that you won't tell us anything about doesn't exactly inspire confidence," Maria agreed, her tone tinged with sarcasm.

The FBI agent smiled and replied sardonically, "My apologies, then, that the necessity of keeping secrets upsets you. I would have thought you would understand _that_, at least."

Tess rolled her eyes. "Our reason for keeping secrets is a little different than yours," she said coolly.

"Is it?" the agent replied, raising an eyebrow. "I would imagine that we actually keep secrets for exactly the same reasons. To protect ourselves and the ones we care about." He leaned forward, eyes moving from Tess back to Max. "I will not tell you the information that is secret. I suggest you don't push further."

"You're outnumbered," Alex pointed out mildly, "and you have no idea what everyone here can do."

"On the contrary," the older man replied, "I am quite a bit more informed than you realize." He inclined his head towards Liz. "You keep a very detailed record of everything that has ever happened, Ms. Parker."

Tess stared at Liz. "What is he talking about?" she demanded angrily.

Liz blinked, then said in a horrified voice, "You _read_ my journal?"

The agent nodded. "I did." Turning his attention back to Alex, he added, "And I would point out, Mr. Whitman, that while I am currently out-numbered, while I did come here alone, I was hardly stupid enough to come without telling my associates of my plans. I assure you, if I don't return, or if I return with stories of being attacked… well… they won't be pleased."

"Is that a threat?" Michael growled.

"Of course not. It is a friendly warning."

Tess studied the man for a moment. She could most likely mind-warp him into forgetting whatever parts of this conversation they didn't want him to remember, but was that a risk she was willing to take? Quite apart from her concerns about causing brain damage, she also had no way of knowing if the FBI or anyone else in this shadow network had come up with a way of testing the brain to see if it had been tampered with. Would they know if she mind-warped him?

After all, he clearly knew a lot about them, which meant he likely knew of her mind-warping abilities. He wouldn't have walked into this situation without some kind of assurance that he could walk out unharmed.

"Enough," Mr. Evans said calmly. "This arguing is getting us nowhere. I am sure each of you has a few questions you would like to ask, so why don't we start with that?"

"How did you figure out who we were?" Michael asked first.

The FBI agent frowned. "That was mostly luck and a few well-placed colleagues. We knew almost nothing about Pierce, but the way that he burst onto the seen last year… and then went crazy… lead us to believe that something else had happened, something he hadn't shared with the group."

Tess glanced uneasily at Max. He met her gaze and gave a little half-shrug, an indication that he had no way of knowing just how much the FBI agent had learned. After all, when Pierce had first become known to the public, he hadn't been Pierce. He had been Nasedo pretending to be Pierce, and the shape-shifter's goal had been to discredit Pierce, to make him look like a raving lunatic.

Did the agent know all that?

And if so, did he know that Max had killed Pierce?

"A few of our members were aware of Pierce's reputation, though certainly not of the extent of what he had done." Here, the agent glanced at Tess, looking decidedly uncomfortable, and she met his gaze coldly.

It was Maria who spoke, indignantly echoing Tess' own thoughts, "You knew? You knew the kind of person he was and you didn't try to _stop_ him?"

"We didn't know the _extent_ of what he would do," the agent repeated. "The experiments he performed… first on the shape-shifter and later on Ms. Harding… we did not know about any of that until much later."

Tess wrapped her arms around herself and glared at the agent.

"So you got suspicious of Pierce," Max said. "Then what?"

"Nothing," the agent replied. "We investigated Pierce after his mental breakdown and demise, but found nothing. He covered his tracks well."

Again, Tess looked at Max. The agent clearly didn't realize that, by the time in question, Pierce had been dead for months. He hadn't covered his tracks at all, but Nasedo had clearly made sure that an investigation into the cruel FBI agent would yield nothing.

For all the things Nasedo had done _to_ them, this was one thing he had done _for_ them. She supposed they owed him something for that.

"We looked into the Special Unit, but again, we couldn't find anything concrete. We were worried, but there were no clues, nothing to lead us to the truth. And then…" He turned his attention away from the four hybrids and looked at Alex. "Then things changed. Then we got a miracle."

"It was me," Alex said quietly. "It was my miraculous recovery that finally led you to us."

"We knew Roswell was involved. Pierce had spent so much of his time focused on this town. But beyond that… it wasn't until your story was reported in a few newspapers that we realized… And after that, it was just a matter of being in the right place at the right time. This town talks. There were enough clues here to figure out that the group involved the seven of you…" He paused, and added, "Though it did confuse us when Ms. Parker left for boarding school."

"Yes. Several of us were less than pleased about that," Michael drawled, giving Max a pointed look.

Max huffed.

Tess said mildly, "You know, Michael, you actually seemed to be quite upset about it, if I recall correctly. Something about how badly the future could turn out if she got killed…"

"Wait, so that was real?" the FBI agent asked, surprised. He stared hard at Liz. "Everything you wrote about being visited by a future version of Mr. Guerin was true?" He shook his head in astonishment. "That was the one part of the journal I had trouble believing."

"Is there anything you didn't write in your journal?" Tess demanded hotly. "And more importantly, are you really still stupid enough to put things like that in _writing_?"

"Can we postpone a discussion about Parker's stupidity until after we get the rest of the story from the FBI agent?" Michael asked sharply.

Liz glared at both of them.

"Okay," Isabel said, finally lifting her gaze from the floor and fixing it on the FBI agent, "let me get this straight. You became suspicious after learning about Pierce's psychotic break. You searched for the rest of the school year but found nothing. Then Alex was healed, and you came to Roswell and started spying on us?"

"Yes, that's about right," the man agreed. "We were also lucky enough at that time to finally find some evidence of what Pierce had been doing. We put together the pieces and learned that you were involved. Then we came here and… you have to understand, we still had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. We didn't know who you were or what you wanted. Or, more importantly, what you could do. We originally assumed that you were the enemy, though as we learned more and more about Pierce… well, let's just say our opinions changed on that one."

He leaned back in his seat and folded his hands on the table. He looked so relaxed, so comfortable. So unafraid.

"And like I said, people in this town talk. I followed a couple reporters who were doing pieces on Mr. Whitman's recovery and read through their notes. I came to the Crashdown several times and watched you all. And… well, we certainly noticed the influx of strangers who suddenly seemed interested in you. At first we thought they were also government employees – perhaps another Special Unit – but after some of them appeared to be children and teenagers, we determined fairly quickly that they must be aliens. You were good at staying hidden, but not good enough. And you really should have learned by now never to have private conversations in public places."

"You were spying on us?" Max repeated, sounding numb.

"Of course. So many of those conversations you had at the Crashdown… or at the park… I took the lead on this investigation, but I had others to help me. I doubt you even noticed them. You were so caught up in this war you were talking about, that you got sloppy. And, after listening to your fears about Khivar and his skins… well, we got worried."

"So you broke into Liz's room and read her journal," Max said.

"Yes. We had a vague idea of what was happening, and we had determined that you weren't the enemy. But we didn't yet know any of the details, and we needed those."

"Why did you decide we weren't the enemy?" Isabel asked softly.

"We had a few reasons. We overheard one argument in particular where you were talking about whether or not to run and hide. You didn't want to leave Roswell because you didn't want to take the chance that your enemies would attack a defenseless town. There was another conversation in which you talked about killing people, and about how much you didn't want to be doing this, to be fighting. And then…" He trailed off thoughtfully, and looked at Max. "And then Sydney Davis died."

Max stiffened, and Tess watched as he clenched and unclenched his hands. Liz reached out for him tentatively, as though wanting to offer comfort, but he didn't even look at her, and she let her hand drop back to her side with a heavy sigh. There was a wariness in her eyes, and a kind of pain that made Tess uneasy.

The group couldn't really afford to fall apart right now. They just couldn't. But if Max and Liz were at odds, it would be divisive.

It was apparently already becoming divisive, Tess noted, as Maria shot Max a furious look.

The FBI agent either didn't notice or didn't care, because he pressed on, "I was parked in a car on the other side of the street when you came out of your house and… well… got upset. I watched as you knocked around those trash cans in a fit or rage, and I watched as Ms. Parker approached you and asked what was wrong, and I watched as you told her what had happened. And I remember so clearly hearing you ask what the point of having these gifts was if you couldn't save people. If you couldn't stop them from dying." He sighed, his expression softening. "You were talking about your fears for the war and for not being able to protect everyone, but mostly, you were falling apart because a child had died of cancer and you couldn't save her. That was when I truly knew that you weren't the enemy."

There was a silence in the room. Max was looking down at his hands, unable to meet anyone's gaze. No one had talked about Sidney in a long time, but it was abruptly clear to Tess that even if Max never mentioned her, he still thought about her constantly.

And about Brody Davis who had packed up his supplies and his projects and his life's work and left. Abandoned it all, because there was no longer a point.

Diane moved to Max's side and slid her arm around his shoulders, and he didn't shrug her off. Instead, he just stood there, still staring downwards.

"Why didn't you approach us then?" Michael asked finally, breaking the gloomy silence that had fallen.

"We still didn't have all the details, and we were still uncovering information from Pierce. We also thought it would be best to remain out of this until we knew more. Approaching you then would have required going into the situation blind, and we didn't want to do that. We waited. We gathered more information. I read Ms. Parker's journal. And then we decided to act."

"So you blew up the compound," Alex said.

The agent nodded. "Ms. Parker's journal made it quite clear that none of you knew whether or not you would win this war. And the entire world seemed to be at stake. We decided not to take any chances."

For a long moment, no one knew what to say. Then Isabel asked, "What kind of information did you learn from Pierce?"

"About your powers, and about how to inhibit then. Protect ourselves from them. A bit about your biology, too, although I admit that I am not enough of a scientist to really understand it."

"What about the Special Unit? Are they still in existence?"

The FBI agent shook his head. "As I am sure you are aware, they were disbanded when Pierce went crazy. Some were killed shortly after that, and others…" He hesitated, then said, "Let's just say, they're all dead now."

"_You_ killed them?"

"Not me, no."

"But someone in your… network."

The FBI agent shrugged. "We don't like loose ends. Particularly those that have already proven themselves to be psychotic. We have no desire for the white room experiments to be repeated."

Tess knew that she should feel some dismay over the fact that more people had been murdered because of this mess. But all she could feel was a sort of savage, vindictive pleasure, knowing that they would never be able to hurt anyone else the way they had hurt her.

"And this network? What is it doing now?" Michael asked.

"As I said earlier, we are preparing for the inevitable future contact with aliens. I can't give you any details beyond that, but I assure you that we won't be bothering you as long as you don't bother us."

"You're giving your word," Michael drawled. "How very reassuring."

Tess smirked.

The agent said nothing, and so Max asked finally, "And you're sure your cover story for the explosion of the compound will hold? The last thing we need right now are more investigative reporters."

"It will hold," the agent said firmly. "We'll make sure that it does."

"At what cost?" Max asked, picking up on a coldness in the agent's tone. "How many more people will die?"

The FBI agent shrugged. "You can't stop us from doing what we need to do," he said flatly, bluntly. "You've just fought a war. Surely you understand that morals get a little… gray… when dealing with problems like this. We will protect this country – and this planet – from anyone and anything that tries to destroy it. And we will do it any way possible."

"So possibly that explains why we're not that willing to trust you," Tess pointed out. "_Any way possible_ isn't exactly something we've had a lot of luck with in the past. Pierce thought he was protecting the country, too."

"Pierce was a lunatic," the FBI agent replied.

Tess couldn't really argue with that.

"There will always be people like that," Alex answered. "And there will always be people who get greedy or power-hungry. There will always be people who go too far, who do the wrong thing and assume it is still okay because they think they're doing it for the right reasons. Sooner or later, your network will end up with a person like that in its ranks. Another Pierce."

The FBI agent smiled. "I like you," he said. "You seem to be actually quite intelligent."

"Uh… thanks?"

"But there are only two options. We can either be prepared for whatever the future brings, or we cannot. Judging by what Ms. Parker's journal says, you four are considering leaving the planet. Which means you will be leaving many, many people behind. People that you care about, people that you love. Would you rather that we not be prepared for the future? If another Khivar attacks, would you prefer that the entire world be destroyed?"

No one had anything to say to that, but Tess was still feeling uncomfortable with this entire topic of conversation.

"I did not come here to justify my actions to you. And I assure you that nothing you say can change my mind on this. I have told you everything I could about what happened, what led up to this point. I don't have any more to say, but I do hope that it at least gives you some peace of mind. You will be left alone."

"Are there any assurances we can have on that besides your word?" Mr. Evans demanded.

"Not really," the agent replied. "This is something you're just going to need to take on faith."

"He's telling the truth," Liz said softly.

All eyes swung to her. "How can you tell?" Tess demanded.

"I don't… I don't know. I just… I just can. He's… he really believes what he's saying. He's planning on leaving us alone," Liz answered, stammering slightly. She looked a little awed by what she was saying, as though she couldn't quite believe that she had this ability. But despite the disbelief in her tone, there was something in her eyes, something that made Tess believe her.

Max, too, must have agreed, because he said finally, "Okay. Then we'll leave you and your network alone, too."

* * *

"You know, you don't actually have to follow me everywhere," Michael grumbled as Maria linked her arm through his and pulled him from the Evans' house. The FBI agent had left fifteen minutes prior, and they had spent the remaining time arguing. Everyone seemed to agree that they were still uncomfortable with this arrangement, but no one could come up with a solution, and tempers were short.

And Maria seemed unable to leave him alone. She'd practically avoided leaving his side since he had returned from the battle at the compound. It was sweet… and irritating.

"I know," Maria replied. "But I'm going to anyway."

"Sometimes a guy just needs a little space," Michael said, arguing halfheartedly as she walked towards her car. He trailed behind, well aware of the fact that he was going to continue arguing with her even though they both knew it would do no good.

"Do you trust him?" Maria asked, letting go Michael's arm and tossing him the keys.

He caught them and stared blankly at his hand. It was so rare that Maria allowed him to drive her car without arguing, and for a moment, he was completely stunned.

Then he registered the question and frowned. "You mean the FBI agent? I don't know. Not really, I guess, but still…"

"You don't trust anyone," Maria murmured, "so why would he be an exception?"

"I trust you," Michael answered. "And Max, Isabel, Tess. Liz, Alex. Mr. and Mrs. Evans. And… I trusted Sheriff Valenti." Of course, he' trusted Courtney, too, at least to some extent, and look how that had turned out.

"I'd like to believe that it is all over," Maria said, leaning against the car and studying him. "That the FBI won't be a problem. I don't want… I don't want to even think about what could happen if they got you or… or Liz… or one of the others…" She winced, and Michael felt his own gut clench painfully at that thought.

"You know," he said, changing the subject, "I can get a ride home with Tess. She lives in the same apartment building, after all. Then you could just head home."

"Or I could hang out at your apartment. It's winter break. It's not like I have anything better to do," Maria countered.

Michael wasn't sure if he was more annoyed about the fact that hanging out with him was a last resort on her part, or that she seemed determined to do this without any consideration for the fact that he really just wanted to be left alone right now.

"Are you going to open the car or what?" Maria pressed. "I gave you the keys, remember?"

"Maria…"

"Hey, if you don't want to talk, we don't need to talk. That's totally fine. We can sit in silence like we did yesterday," Maria said cheerfully.

Michael snorted. He sincerely doubted Maria was capable of sitting in silence for much longer than she already had. Yesterday had been trying enough for her, but to have to do it again today…?

"Look, all your going to do is go home and brood about the FBI agent and this shadow network and whatever else you're worried about right now," she said. "So why are you so determined to do that alone?"

"You don't understand," Michael protested. "I just need some time."

"For what?" Maria pressed.

"To… think."

"About?"

Michael groaned and ran a hand through his hair. Why couldn't she stop asking questions? Why couldn't she stop prodding him? Why couldn't she just…

"You saved the world, defeated a madman," Maria said. "And now it is winter break. So you hang out with your girlfriend. That's just what you do."

"But… you really don't understand," Michael said firmly.

"Then explain it to me," Maria replied.

"I felt Rath. I let him take over me when I was fighting. I just _let_ him. And then… there was so much destruction everywhere and people died, and Rath didn't care. _I_ did, but _he_ didn't, and now I can feel him constantly inside of me," Michael said angrily. "He wasn't upset about what the FBI agent was saying. He didn't care at all. He thought it was a good plan, and to hell with all the people who might get hurt because of it. And I just need time to… to figure this out, to figure out how to…" He trailed off, unsure how to finish, but feeling both furious at Maria for pushing and guilty for anger that really shouldn't have been directed at her.

"I know," Maria said simply.

"Huh?" It wasn't his most eloquent response, but her words caught him too much by surprise to be able to think of much else.

"I know," Maria repeated. "I could see it in your eyes when you guys returned after the battle. I could see something that was different and darker… and I knew it had to be Rath. Because I saw the same in Max and Isabel. And I could see how much that upset you, how much all of it upset you. I remember what you said about not liking Rath, about not wanting to become him. And I could tell you weren't sure what to feel during this meeting we just had, too. I can tell you're still struggling with all of this. I just don't get why you think you have to struggle with it alone."

Michael opened and closed his mouth several times, and then thought idly that _of course_ he should have expected that Maria would see right through all the fake smiles he had given her the day before and know that things really weren't okay.

"I don't get what is going on with Max," Maria said, "and I've never really understood Isabel, so I'm kind of confused about that one as well. And don't even get me started on how much I don't get Tess. But I get you. I get this. And if you don't want to talk, we don't have to talk. I'll sit around in silence while you brood about the FBI agent and worry that you've just made a deal with the devil. But I really don't want to just leave you." She paused, then added, "Besides, I think my Mom's on a new cooking kick and I don't want to be forced to try more of her casseroles. They're really, truly horrible."

Michael scratched his eyebrow. He couldn't think of anything to say to Maria, so he shrugged and unlocked the car. "Fine," he muttered. "Get in."

He didn't really want to deal with all of this by himself, anyway.

* * *

Next Chapter: One Day

Due: Sun 7/3


	44. One Day

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Summary: Sequel to Time After Time. AU Season Three. In the end, it's the little things that can pull a group together. And it's the little things that can tear them apart.

* * *

Chapter Forty-Four: One Day

Knowing that the FBI knew all about them was not exactly conducive to sleeping.

Isabel lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to fall asleep. She was completely worn out, and the lingering soreness in her muscles only added to the exhaustion-induced heaviness of her limbs. Her mind was moving slowly, far more sluggish than she liked. She desperately needed to sleep.

She couldn't.

She couldn't think, couldn't focus on anything long enough to analyze what they had learned, to prepare for the future, to do anything at all productive. She simply lay there, sprawled on her bed, listening to the faint sound of the wind rustling through the leaves and branches outside her window. Pale moonlight came in through the glass, casting shadows on bedroom floor and walls. She stared at it, and wished she could sleep.

Her eyelids were heavy. She closed them periodically, but her overactive imagination brought up images from the battle. Skins dissolving into nothingness all around her. Blood spilled across the stone and cement floor. And Khivar – _always_ Khivar – looming over her.

He was _dead_, and he _still_ managed to haunt her.

And she had no idea how to fight back.

She gazed at the white ceiling above her. It was covered with shadows.

She could feel Vilandra inside of her, but it was different than before. Before, when she had faced Khivar, she had felt her alien half clawing to break free. It was a struggle not to lose herself, not to fade away completely. The part of her that was human, the part of her that was undeniably _Isabel_, was not strong enough to fight without her alien half's help, but allowing Vilandra any free reign at all had been terrifying.

This was different. This was a steady hum of energy in her chest, a whispering voice in the back of her mind. She, Isabel, was in control, and Vilandra could not break free. Wasn't even trying to break free. Was simply there, whispering.

Always whispering.

She closed her eyes and tried not to think of Khivar.

She had barely seen Alex since the battle. He had been there when she returned, of course, and he had been there when they met first at Michael's apartment and then later with the FBI agent at her own home. But the fighting had been Tuesday night, and it was now Thursday night, and she hadn't seen him outside of the group.

There hadn't been time.

She wanted to make time. She wanted to have a day all to herself, a day that she and Alex could spend curled up in front of the television, watching bad movies and talking about nothing in particular. Nothing important, nothing life-altering.

But Alex had spent most of his time with Liz.

And Isabel told herself she wasn't jealous. And she wasn't, not really. She trusted Alex, of course, and knew that it wasn't as though he was secretly dating Liz or whatever. And she knew that Liz was going through a lot – she'd killed Khivar, after all, and she had less experience with killing than the four hybrids – and she knew that Max was trapped in his own pain and was therefore unable to offer Liz any support or comfort.

Liz _needed_ Alex.

But so did Isabel.

Thinking of Liz caused her mind to wander to Khivar, and the images were back, scenes of death and destruction floating behind closed lids. Isabel snapped her eyes open and sat up, pulling her knees into her chest. She wrapped her arms around her legs and tried to blink away the tears that started to form.

She didn't even know _why_ she was crying.

But she did know she wasn't going to be getting any sleep.

* * *

The Crashdown was busy, filled with the usual Friday afternoon rush. Liz balanced a tray on trembling arms and tried her best to fix a cheerful smile to her face as she navigated her way through the customers. It felt odd to be here, standing in the middle of a crowded diner, going about her normal day-to-day activities. It was surreal. Only a few days ago they had fought a war against a race of aliens that had been determined to destroy them and possibly all of Earth, and now she was working as a waitress in her parents' diner.

Alex was sitting at the bar, drinking a milkshake and staring blankly towards the door. It was bright outside – albeit cold, at least by Roswell's standards – and the sunlight that was pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the diner was a distinct change from the gray drizzle of rain they'd had before this. The change in weather seemed to have entranced Alex.

Kyle and Tess were sitting at a booth near the front of the diner. They were talking, and Tess looked so happy, so relaxed, so… _different_… than she had since the Sheriff's death. The change took Liz completely by surprise, and gave her a moment's pause. It occurred to her in an off-hand way that she hadn't really realized just how much of a toll the Sheriff's death and Kyle's departure had taken on the petite blonde. What had it been like for her, to lose that much family so quickly?

She returned the try of used dishes to the kitchen and then pulled out her order pad and pen and walked over to the first table in her section. It was hard to keep the smile on her lips, harder still to act naturally as she took the two customers' requests and scribbled them down on her pad. She couldn't help but wonder if everyone around her could tell that things had changed.

Could they see the metaphorical blood on her hands?

She wanted to talk to Max. Or possibly she wanted to completely avoid him and forget the terrifying look of power and rage she had seen in his eyes during that battle. She wasn't sure which, and she didn't like not knowing.

The door to the diner opened and Isabel walked in.

Out of the corner of her eye, Liz saw Alex sit up straighter at the hybrid Princess' entrance, and flash Isabel a smile. Isabel paused, and smile hesitantly back at Alex.

But then she walked over to Liz.

She looked exhausted. There were dark circles under eyes and a weariness in her expression. Her smile for forced and strained and it looked as though it was taking all of her energy just to stand up straight.

But underneath it all, Liz could see determination.

"Hey," Liz greeted.

"Hey," Isabel replied. "You guys are going to close the Crashdown on Sunday night, right? And all day Monday?"

Liz blinked. "Why would we?" she asked, bewildered.

"It's New Year's Eve and New Year's Day," Isabel replied, shaking her head as though that was the most obvious thing in the world. And to other people, it probably was. But Liz had lost track of things as mundane as calendar dates. New Years meant very little in the wake of something as horrific as the battle they had just fought.

"Oh." Liz nodded, "Yeah, it will be closed. Why?"

"We should have a New Year's party," Isabel replied. Alex spun around on his bar stool and stared at her in surprise, a sentiment that Liz certainly agreed with.

"Uh… what?" Liz asked ineloquently.

"Nothing big or fancy," Isabel replied. "Just the eight of us. That includes Kyle. Something to mark the beginning of a new year. I mean…" she lowered her voice and glanced around, "we do have reason to celebrate."

Alex slipped off his bar stool and walked towards the two girls.

"We also have a few other things to worry about," Liz answered logically. Somehow, she doubted the few surviving Royalists would be all that understanding of Isabel's somewhat inexplicable decision to focus on planning a party.

"A few hours on Sunday night isn't going to be too much to ask," Isabel answered with a shrug. "It's a holiday. We celebrated Christmas, Thanksgiving… why should we ignore this one?"

In a hushed whisper, Liz answered, "Because you're supposed to be thinking about whether or not you're going to return to…"

"Liz!" Isabel interrupted, her tone hard. "Don't." She glanced around nervously. "After everything the FBI agent said, I think the _last_ thing we want to do is discuss those sorts of things in public."

Liz couldn't really argue with that. After all, the FBI agent had managed to learn so much about them by eavesdropping on several of their conversations. And they had thought they were being so secretive, so discreet, so _careful_.

Still, she wasn't sure what to say to Isabel, and was saved from having to answer by the sudden appearance of Tess. The petite blonde gave Isabel a quick smile and Alex a brief nod, and then turned to Liz and said, "Kyle and I changed our minds. We want our orders to go. Can you get them wrapped up for us?"

"Sure. Where are you guys going?" Liz asked curiously.

"To meet up with some people," Tess replied with a careless shrug. "It's too nice to stay inside."

Liz nodded in agreement. "Sure. Come on back, I think Jose was just making the order. I'll get it wrapped up for you and you can pay at the register on your way out."

"Great," Tess said. "Thanks."

Liz paused, shaking her head in astonishment. Was it really just a little more than two years ago that she was still slightly afraid of the hybrid Queen? Was it only two years ago that Tess had made her uneasy, uncomfortable, every time they were in the same room? So much had changed.

She thought of Max, of Khivar, and wondered what it would be like to go back to that time when everything had been so much less complicated.

"Tess," Isabel said, "I think we should have a New Year's party on Sunday night."

Tess shrugged. "Sure, whatever," she said distractedly, clearly not at all interested.

"It could be fun," Isabel pressed.

"Yeah," Tess agreed vaguely. "Sounds great. Whatever you want." She glanced over her shoulder towards the booth where Kyle was still sitting. "Hm… Parker, can we add some soda to that order? Cherry Coke and a Sprite?"

Isabel looked remarkably put out at being so casually dismissed, but Tess didn't seem to notice. Instead, she followed Liz towards the kitchen, leaving Isabel and Alex standing in the main room of the diner.

Liz quickly delivered the request to Jose, who acquiesced with a single nod, and then she turned to Tess and said, "Are you and Kyle having a good time? You've been hanging out with him a lot."

"He is my brother," Tess replied pointedly. "And I haven't seen him in a while." She hesitated, then added with a wry smile, "I'm glad he came to Roswell, even if I specifically told him not to."

Liz grinned. Then her expression sobered and she asked quietly, "Have you spoken to Max at all?"

"Not outside of the group meetings," Tess answered in an offhanded manner. Then her gaze fixed on Liz's face, and there was something scrutinizing in her eyes. "Have you?" she asked shrewdly.

Liz shook her head uncomfortably. "No. I… He's… You didn't see him, Tess. You didn't see what he was like then…" _at the battle, when he was suddenly so different, so scary, someone I didn't recognize_. She didn't finish the thought aloud, but she was fairly certain that Tess understood what she had implied.

The brunette sighed. How could she explain it? She had never been afraid of Max before. Not like this. Irritated at him, exasperated with him, furious about his actions… those emotions she was familiar with. But this was different. This was something she could not really put into words.

Because underneath all that fear was the knowledge that he had reacted that way because she was in danger and he was willing to do anything to save her. And part of her was ecstatic that he loved her so much, even though she was also afraid of what could happen because of it.

The whole thing didn't make any sense even in her own head, so she knew she couldn't make Tess understand what she felt.

"You seem to be handling the whole thing pretty well," Liz said finally.

Tess narrowed her eyes, then wrapped her hand around Liz's wrist and pulled her into the side room where they could be alone. She looked around once, confirming that there was no one anywhere close to them, no way they could be overheard, and then said, "Ava was nothing important."

"What?"

"Zan was a king, he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Rath was a general, he fought wars and sent soldiers to certain death in the name of protecting his planet. Vilandra betrayed her entire family for someone who claimed to love her and then killed her in the end. But compared to that… what was Ava? A court ornament."

"Oh," Liz said. "Okay."

"When Max feels Zan inside of him, when Isabel is afraid of Vilandra, when Michael is worried about Rath… that means something, Liz. Because those people… they did things. They destroyed lives, brought bloodshed and ruin. And they saved others, or at least they desperately tried to. They… they weren't just people stuck in the middle of a war. They _were_ the war. Ava was not. The little I remember of her, the personality I feel inside of me… it doesn't matter if I give into it. It doesn't matter if Ava seeps into my life. She wasn't important, not the way the other three were. So I don't have the same things to fear. I don't have the same consequences to face."

"You're important now," Liz pointed out.

"Yes. But I'm also in full control of the choices I make in this life," Tess countered. "I don't have to worry that this is Ava speaking because I can be Ava without fear. Max _can't_. We've seen what happens if he becomes Zan. Zan could be Zan because he had been trained his entire life to lead and he instinctively understood the privileges and burdens and decisions that necessarily came with his title. Max doesn't have that. He hasn't learned how to be Zan yet. And he knows…" Tess trailed off, and then said softly, "No matter how afraid of him you are, Liz, I assure you, he is much more afraid of himself."

Liz rubbed her hands together, then said weakly, "He's not the only one struggling right now."

"No," Tess agreed, "he's not."

"I just wish I knew how to make everything better," Liz murmured.

"You can't," Tess replied flatly. "You can either be there with all of us as we struggle, or you can do it on your own. But you can't just magically make it better and you can't fix it."

The door swung open and Jose stuck his head in the room. "Food is ready and wrapped up for you," he said to Tess.

"Great, thanks," Tess answered. She turned to Liz, "Anyway, my point is that you shouldn't give up just because this is different and new and scary. Or because he might not be here forever. And…" her eyes hardened, "you tell anyone I was actually voluntarily giving you relationship advice, I will deny it and then kill you."

Liz laughed.

* * *

"You _have_ to return. You have a responsibility to Antar."

Max ran a hand through his hair and did his best to remain calm in the face of Lillian's never-ending speech. It had been going on for what seemed like hours, although he knew it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. Every time he tried to insert a word or a comment, she would simply counter with some other reason they needed to return to Antar and save the planet from total destruction.

Didn't she knew that he already knew everything she was saying? It wasn't as though he was simply unaware of the dire situation on Antar or of his responsibility as King. But he didn't know _how_ to rule a planet, and that was something that wasn't going to change just because it would be easier if it was different.

Michael was sitting on the sofa watching the exchange in silence. Max wasn't sure where Maria was – and was a little surprised that she wasn't here because he hadn't seen Michael without her at any point in the past couple days – but Ahab was standing in the corner of the apartment, also listening.

"I know I have a responsibility to Antar," Max replied. "But I'm just not sure that this is the best idea."

"You _are_ the King."

"I'm an almost-eighteen-year-old boy with the DNA of a king," Max answered tiredly. "I'm not _the_ King."

Of course, that wasn't entirely true. There had been a brief moment during the battle when he had lost sight of himself, lost a hold on this reality, and felt Zan surging to the forefront of his mind. The power he had felt them was raw and dangerous, and he had known beyond a shadow of a doubt that this person could be a king.

But the moment was gone now, and he was back to being Max Evans.

He looked over at Michael. The hybrid General had remained unusually quiet, which was a little disconcerting. Michael had an opinion about everything, especially if it was alien-related. For him to say nothing now was strangely out-of-character.

Three years ago, he would have left without question.

Three years ago, he didn't have Maria.

"You are more of a king than anyone else is," Lillian answered, striding forward until she was standing directly in front of Max. "You have the DNA. That _means_ something, even if you don't accept it."

"Does Antar really need a clueless teenager with no real memory of his past life right now?" Max argued.

Lillian frowned. "A few days ago, and I would have said that a clueless teenager with no real memory of his past life had no hopes of winning against Khivar and the skins. And yet you did."

Max closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. "You don't understand."

"You could learn again," Lillian said firmly. "You could learn what you need to know to be king."

Max rubbed at his eyes. That was entirely possible. He could learn to be a king. He could try to find the part of him that was Zan, try to bring that personality and that power back to the forefront of his mind. He could use that, and he could use the advice he would no doubt receive from Ahab and the few other aliens he trusted, and he could learn how to be king again.

The door to Michael's apartment flew open, and he spun around as Isabel walked in breathlessly.

"Don't you knock?" Michael demanded.

"I think we should have a New Year's Eve party on Sunday night at the Crashdown," Isabel announced.

Max's eyes widened. "Uh… what?"

"New Year's Eve," Isabel repeated. "It's on Sunday night. We should have a party. It's Friday night now, so that gives us two days to plan something. It shouldn't be too hard. I mean, I'm not thinking of anything elaborate. Music. Chips and salsa. Dancing. Something fun."

"I'm trying to talk to Ahab and Lillian about returning to Antar," Max replied. "This isn't really the best time."

Isabel rolled her eyes. "Well, we don't need to plan it right this minute," she said. "We can plan it later tonight or tomorrow. Plenty of time."

"I think he meant this might not be the best time for a party," Michael said delicately.

"There is still a war being fought, even if it is being fought on a planet you don't remember," Lillian said stiffly. "This isn't over, Princess. It didn't end with Khivar's death."

"It's a party," Isabel said stubbornly. "A few hours. It will be fine."

Lillian's expression was an interesting mix of disbelief and outrage. She was clearly struggling to prevent herself from saying anything too impolite, anything she would regret later. But her eyes clearly conveyed her dismay and disgust at the idea of focusing on a party while a war was still being fought on her home planet.

Max groaned inwardly and rubbed his eyes again. "Can we talk about this later, Izzy?" he asked.

Isabel opened her mouth, possibly to protest, and then stopped. She seemed to realize that neither Max nor Michael had any desire to discuss this with her now, and certainly the presence of Lillian and Ahab did not help matters.

She glowered, but said, "Fine," and turned on her heel, stalking out of the apartment.

* * *

It was Saturday morning when Alex finally managed to find the time to visit Isabel. He had not meant to avoid her, and it seemed so odd that they had fought a war nearly a week ago and yet he was only seeking her out now. But Liz had been in such bad shape, and there had been the concerns about the FBI, and Isabel did have Max and Michael and even her parents to look after her.

He knocked on the door to her house and was greeted by the sight of a very frazzled Diane Evans.

"Oh, Alex," Mrs. Evans said, sighing. "Come in."

"Thank you," Alex said, stepping past the older woman and wandering into the living room. Isabel was sitting on the sofa, staring intently at the newspaper spread out on the coffee table in front of her, but she looked up in surprise as Alex entered.

The surprise soon turned into a tentative smile.

"I'll be in the kitchen," Mrs. Evans said, and left the two teenagers alone.

"Is everything alright?" Alex asked, following Mrs. Evans with his eyes. "Your mother seems…"

"Stressed?" Isabel shrugged. "She's been like that since the FBI agent…" She pushed the newspapers aside and didn't quite meet Alex's gaze as she continued, "She knows everything, after all. She knows that Max isn't doing well, an she knows that he and I might go back to Antar soon and… It's just a lot. She's worried. She's our mother, that's what she does."

"Yeah," Alex agreed slowly. He took a seat opposite her and looked at the newspaper. "Anything of interest?"

"No," Isabel answered, shaking her head. "I keep checking the newspaper every day just in case… just in case there is something about the compound or the FBI or anything… you know, anything to concern us. But there isn't. Looks like the FBI agent was telling the truth."

"That's good."

"Yeah…" Isabel trailed off for a moment, then asked, "How's Liz?"

Alex raised his eyebrows.

"You've been spending a lot of time with her since…" Isabel stopped, shook her head. "I'm not… I don't mean to sound… I just…" She was silent again, apparently lost in thought, before finally saying, "I haven't seen you much."

"Liz is… struggling," Alex said, cautiously picking his words. He could hear the jealousy in Isabel's tone, even though she was trying to hide it, and he could perfectly understand her point of view. She was his girlfriend, not Liz, and yet he had been spending more time with the brunette.

Of course, Isabel hadn't really sought him out, either.

"Getting over killing someone is never particularly easy," Isabel murmured.

Alex rubbed the back of his head absently. "I don't think there has been much of anything that has been easy during the past couple years," he replied.

Isabel chewed her lower lip. "No, I guess not," she agreed. There was another strained, awkward silence, and then she blurted out, "I missed you."

Alex started, and then answered automatically, "I missed you, too." Then he furrowed his brow and said, "But it's not like I haven't seen you several times."

"For meetings and… and at the Crashdown. Not… it hasn't been like before," Isabel protested. She leaned back against the sofa and gazed up at the ceiling. "Nothing is like before."

"Did you think it would be?"

She shrugged half-heartedly. "I hoped. I just… it's over. I want to… I want to go back to the way things were before. Ideally, I want to go back to the way things were before all of this, before Courtney, before Nicolas, before Rath…" She let out a long breath. "But even if we can't do that, I at least want to go back to the way things were before Tuesday night."

Alex thought back to the look in Isabel's eyes when she had approached Liz and suggested a New Year's Eve party. The determination he had seen there had surprised him, but there had also been something else lingering underneath. Something he hadn't been able to identify then.

But now he knew it was longing.

"Is that why you're so determined to have this New Year's Eve party?" he asked.

She looked at him, and then nodded. "But Max and Michael are too busy arguing with Ahab and the other Royalists, and Tess isn't focusing on anything except Kyle. None of them will listen to me, and clearly the Royalists do not understand it."

"I'm not sure _I _understand it," Alex admitted. "Isabel, you have to make a decision that will irrevocably change the rest of your life, and you have to make it soon. How can you be thinking about planning a party? Or is this just your way of procrastinating?"

Isabel glared at him. "You don't have to be so judgmental," she snapped.

Alex winced, and gave an apologetic smile. His words had sounded far harsher than he had intended, and he certainly hadn't come here to upset her. He just wanted to understand, and right now, he didn't get it. He didn't get why Isabel thought spending time on this was a good idea.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean it like that."

Isabel accepted his apology in silence, and then said, "We killed people. We fought a war, practically exterminated a species. And I… I want one day – just _one_ – to be like it was before all this."

"That isn't possible," Alex countered.

Isabel rolled her eyes. "Well, certainly with an attitude like that. Nothing is possible if no one is willing to even _try_."

Alex was silent, unsure what to say. He could tell that Isabel was remarkably close to having a complete emotional breakdown, and he didn't want to do anything to make it worse. But she also seemed to be living in some kind of denial, closing her eyes to the painful truth in front of them. They couldn't ignore the fact that it _still_ wasn't over. He knew she was afraid of returning to Antar – or of _not_ returning and leaving the planet to a bloody civil war – but the time had come to make that decision.

He also wondered vaguely why Isabel wasn't more involved in the discussion with Ahab. Or even Tess, for that matter. It seemed to be mostly Max and Michael having the conversations with the Royalists.

Aloud, he said, "Izzy, I know that you're scared…"

"Don't take this the wrong way, Alex," Isabel cut in sharply, "but you don't have a _clue_ how I feel."

Alex drew back, a little stunned by the bitterness in her words. She rose to her feet and moved away from him. He watched her silently, saw the tension in her body.

"It affects me, too," Alex said. "If you stay or if you leave… I know this issue is weighing heavily on you, but your life isn't the only one that is going to be changed by this."

"You, Max, Michael… you're all acting as though I'm crazy for wanting…" Isabel stopped, drew a breath, turned to face Alex. "Max and Michael are determined to discuss this issue to death because both of them believe that they _should_ return to Antar but neither are actually willing to do it. They seem to think if they talk about it enough, they can put off making the decision forever. Tess feels the same way, but instead of constantly arguing, she's just avoiding the whole issue by spending all her time with Kyle. And you know what? Maybe I am in denial as well. And so my way of dealing with this, with the fact that I have to make a decision between abandoning an entire planet of people to a long and bloody civil war or leaving behind everything and everyone I have ever known and entering a situation I can't possibly be qualified to deal with, is to focus on planning a party. Well, at least I'm _honest_ about what I'm doing."

Alex opened his mouth but could think of nothing to say.

"If we go, I will never see any of you again. If we go, I might not even remember any of you. This isn't just a vacation, Alex. It means giving up everything that makes me the person that I am. I have to give up the human half of me. I can't… can't just make that decision lightly. And if I do have to make it, if I have to walk away from all of you, then at least I want my last several days as Isabel Evans to have something happy in them. I don't want to spend the entire time moping around discussing a war and sullenly thinking about the future."

She wiped angrily at her eyes, and Alex rose to his feet as well. He crossed the room until he was standing directly in front of her, and carefully pulled her into a hug.

She hugged him back, and said in a softer voice, "It's not your decision. I know that whether or not I leave affects you, too, but at the end of the day, it _isn't_ your decision. It's mine. I have to make that decision, and I have to live with the consequences of it, so you really can't know how I feel right now."

"Izzy…"

"I think about it all the time. Every _single_ second, it is the back of my mind. Always there, always present. I haven't forgotten. I _can't_ forget. But I'm a teenager, and I'm human, too, and I don't know… I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to make this decision and I don't understand why it is so unfathomable to everyone else that I want to celebrate New Year's Eve. It's a new year. We're not _dead_. We have things to celebrate, and we're all human, at least a little bit. It's _our_ holiday."

Alex sighed. "Just one day," he murmured.

"Just one," Isabel agreed.

* * *

"You're avoiding me."

Max looked up as Liz walked into his bedroom. He frowned slightly, and then said flatly, "I'm not avoiding you. I'm just busy." He paused, then added, "Besides, you're the one avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you," Liz protested. She looked slightly guilty as she said that, but she lifted her chin in a defiant manner, as though daring Max to contradict her.

Max opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. He looked away from her, towards the window of his room. It was Saturday evening, and most of the day had been spent in endless conversations with Ahab and Lillian. They were circular conversations, leading him nowhere.

And now Isabel was also bugging him about a New Year's Eve party, and since Alex's surprise visit that morning, the lanky human had started taking her side.

Now two people wanted a party.

Did they really think he had time for this?

The war had ended – well, sort of – on Tuesday night. Or perhaps early Wednesday morning was more accurate. Either way, it was now Saturday evening, and they still hadn't been able to come up with any viable solution that didn't leave him feeling nauseous.

He was clearly not cut out to be King.

Liz sat down on the edge of his bed. He was opposite her, still sitting on his desk chair, and he debated pointing out that he hadn't actually indicated that he wanted her to stick around.

Not that it would do much good.

Maria was clearly rubbing off on her.

"Maria says you and Michael have been talking to Ahab every day," Liz said after a long, awkward silence. "Have you made any decisions yet?"

"No," Max said shortly.

"Well… what are you thinking?"

Max frowned. He was thinking a lot of things, all of which were complicated and none of which he wanted to talk about with Liz.

"Doesn't matter," he said.

Liz narrowed her eyes. "It matters to me," she snapped. "It matters to me and to Maria and Alex and Kyle and your parents…"

Max felt his anger grow at Liz's words and spat our furiously, "Do you really think I don't know that? Do you really think that I've forgotten, for even a _second_, how many lives are going to be affected by my decision?"

Liz looked taken aback, and for a moment she lowered her gaze. Her hands slowly clenched and unclenched in her lap, and then she said quietly, "Don't shut me out, Max. I can help."

Somehow, he doubted that.

"You _are_ avoiding me, Max," she pressed.

"You're avoiding me," Max replied, knowing full well how ridiculous and petty that argument sounded. But he didn't want to talk to Liz. He didn't want to feel that anger and rage that had been there for the past several days, didn't want to face the continual darkness of Zan's presence.

He also wasn't blind. He knew he had frightened Liz that night.

"I'm right here. I'm obviously not avoiding you." Liz reached out, wanting to take his hand. He didn't reach out in response, however, and she sighed and dropped her arm. "Max, please… just talk to me."

He turned away from her. He wondered if she realized how much harder she was making this for him.

"I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me," Liz said determinedly.

"What do you want me to say?" Max asked wearily.

That seemed to surprise Liz, and she clearly had trouble formulating a response. She opened and closed her mouth several times before finally saying, "Tell me what you're thinking."

Max gave a dark chuckle. "That would take a very, _very_ long time," he said dryly.

"I've got time," Liz replied.

Max ran a hand through his hair. He _didn't_ have time, and that was the problem. Ahab had not blatantly pressured him, but it was clear that the Royalist was running out of patience. And Lillian had been pushing him from the start. Neither was particularly thrilled at how long this was taking, just as neither was particularly understanding of the fact that Isabel and Tess didn't want to join in the conversations.

It worried him a little bit, the way Isabel was acting. Her refusal to face reality was making it difficult for Max to talk to her about any of this, and he needed to know what she thought of it all. He couldn't make the decision without her input. He just _couldn't_.

"What happened to us, Max?" Liz asked gently. "Before Tuesday, things were different. We were different…"

"Tuesday night happened," Max said harshly. "That changed everything."

"It doesn't have to," Liz protested. "I know that you're scared, but…"

"So are you," Max said, spitting the words out without thought. Liz's eyes snapped up to his face in something resembling shock, and he had only a moment to wonder whether or not continuing this conversation was a good idea before he said, "Do you really think I'm that blind, Liz? I've seen the looks you've given me the past couple days. I know what you're thinking. You're afraid, too. You're afraid of me."

There was a long, drawn-out, painful silence. Then Liz looked up at the ceiling and said, "And I thought we'd gotten past all the hurdles in this relationship."

Max snorted. "How could you possibly think that?"

"Because the Valenti died and Alex was in a coma and I went away to boarding school. Because you killed someone and broke up with me. Because you turned into Zan and I didn't like you. Because we've already dealt with all of these problems. Shouldn't it be easier now?"

Max didn't answer. He might be leaving the planet in the new couple weeks, and that would be the end of their relationship. Maybe it should have been easier up until this point, but this _was_ the final hurdle, and it could make or break everything.

"I'm not afraid of you, Max," Liz said finally. "I'm afraid of Zan. That's different."

"I _am_ Zan," Max answered flatly.

"No, you're not," Liz replied without the slightest bit of hesitation. "If you were really Zan, you wouldn't be this afraid of him, too." She slid off the edge of the bed and came to stand directly in front of him. "It's not the power, Max, and it's not the alien half. Those aren't the things that scare me. It's not even royalty or kingship or war. It was the fury that I saw, and the anger, and the raw hatred. All those things that you're afraid of, all those things you don't want to let control you. That is what I am afraid of. But not you, Max. I'm not afraid of you."

"That doesn't make any sense," Max said.

Liz just smiled. "It makes sense to me. So just trust me on this, okay? I love you."

Something inside of Max crumbled just a little bit more at her words, and he forced himself to look away from her earnest gaze. Those three words meant everything in the world to him, but it wasn't enough. It couldn't be enough, and hearing her declaration only made it harder to figure out what he had to do.

Antar needed a king, but he didn't want to leave Earth. He didn't want to leave Liz.

She reached up and rested her hand on his face, her palm cupping his cheek. "I love you so much."

He caught her hand and drew it away. "I love you, too, Liz," he said honestly. "And I would give anything to spend the rest of my life with you. But I just… I don't know if that is possible."

"Because you might have to leave the planet or because you're worried about Zan?"

"Both," Max admitted. "You're afraid of him, Liz, just like I am. You know how dangerous he is, how dangerous I could be, if I ever let myself…"

"But you won't ever let yourself become that person," Liz cut in. "The fact that you are this scared just proves that you aren't going to lose control. You aren't going to lose yourself. Just like Isabel won't become Vilandra and Michael won't become Rath."

Max lowered his gaze. He wondered if she understood that he might have to become Zan. The only way he had any chance of surviving on Antar would be to connect with all the knowledge and all the power his alien half possessed. And the outcome of that…

"I might still have to leave," he said finally.

"I understand that," Liz said. "All I am asking is that you not push me away right now. We can figure this out. Together."

"And if what we figure out is that we can't be together?" Max asked, raising his eyebrows. "That I have to leave? How can you know that you won't wake up one day and hate me for that?"

"I just know. I'll still love you," Liz promised. "Always."

* * *

Next Chapter: Counting the Minutes

Due: Now


	45. Counting the Minutes

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: As an apology for the very long delay in getting this story updated, I've posted two chapters. So if you haven't read the chapter before this, you will want to go back and do that. And there is only one more chapter after this one (and that is already written!) so the next update and the end of the story will actually be on-time.

* * *

Chapter Forty-Five: Counting the Minutes

"You need to make a decision."

"I know," Max agreed, propping his feet up on the coffee table and staring at Ahab. "That's actually why I asked you to come over today."

Ahab looked around the living room. "Are you the only one here?"

Max nodded. He had wanted to meet with Ahab away from everyone else, which ruled out both Michael and Tess' apartments. On the other hand, he hadn't wanted Ahab to be around when his parents were home, so he had been forced to wait until they were both gone. Isabel, he knew, was spending time with Alex – possibly planning that ridiculous New Year's Eve party that she kept going on about – and he was home alone.

Ahab sat down across from Max. "What did you wish to speak to me about?"

"Do you need all four of us?" Max asked curiously. It wasn't that he thought they might split up. In fact, if he was sure of anything, he was sure that they would all make the same decision. Either all return to Antar or all stay on Earth.

"That would be ideal," Ahab replied. "The Princess may not have as much support as you and the General, but she is still beloved. Despite the betrayal."

Max frowned. He hadn't given much thought to how the rest of Antar would react to Isabel's presence. He knew Isabel was worried about it, but he was fairly certain she was more worried about her own reaction to Antar and all the memories it would bring than about Antar's reaction to her.

"However," Ahab continued, "it is not an all-or-nothing decision. While I would encourage all of you to come, I would not refuse to give passage to some of you if one or more refused to return. Why?"

Max shrugged. "Just curious. Who is most needed?"

"You are," Ahab said flatly. "You are the king, after all."

Max rubbed his eyes. "Right." It was exactly what he had expected to hear, but it worried him all the same. Didn't they know that he wasn't a king? Had Ahab figured out by now that he was nothing like Zan?

He looked down at his hands. He could still feel Liz's fingers closing over his skin, could still remember how she had smiled at him with such tentative hope last night. He hadn't been lying when he told her that he loved her, and he could only hope that she hadn't been lying when she said she would love him no matter what decision he made.

They had spent most of the night talking. He had told her about his various meetings with Ahab, about the logistical issues they had worked out. The Granolith could transport them to Antar without problem. All the skins on Earth were dead, and they would land in a safe location on Antar so as to avoid problems with their arrival. They would need some sort of cover-story to explain their sudden disappearance from Roswell, but Ahab was working on that. Max had refused to leave without a cover-story, not wanting to take the chance that an investigation would follow his departure and get his parents in trouble.

He had told Liz all of this, and she had listened in silence, occasionally asking questions or offering comments. It had felt almost normal.

But only almost.

He hadn't told her that he still felt that darkness inside of him. He knew it was Zan, knew that the power lodged in his chest was not going to go away any time soon.

And he suspected that if he went back to Antar, it would come out in full force.

He shook his head to clear his troubled thoughts and looked back at Ahab. They had already discussed logistics, plans and strategies, and politics. But they hadn't discussed what it would actually be like to return.

"Will I remember Earth?"

Ahab's eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting that question. He pursed his lips and studied Max for a brief moment before he said, "I am not a scientist. I can't say for certain."

"What do you think will happen?" Max pressed.

Ahab sighed. "I would imagine that your memories of Earth will become like your memories of Antar are now."

"Hazy at best?" Max said with a frown. "I barely remember anything from Antar. But that was a past life, isn't that different?"

"Those are King Zan's memories," Ahab answered with a shrug. "They are still a part of you, even if they didn't happen in this lifetime."

"And when I return to Antar," Max said with trepidation, "Zan will become the main personality, and Max will be relegated to the status of hazy memories and dreams of a past-life?"

They hadn't talked about it, but it was another thing that had scared him, another reason he didn't want to return. It felt almost as though he had split-personality disorder, and every time one personality got the upper hand, the other one was pushed back into the recesses of his mind. He had been Max Evans for nearly twelve years, but if he returned to Antar he would lose that.

He would lose his identity, and become someone else. How could he do that to himself? How could he willing sacrifice all the things that made him who he was?

Ahab seemed to be reading his mind, because he said, "You won't be losing yourself. Zan _is_ a part of you."

"But he's not me," Max said stubbornly.

If he returned to Antar, would he forget Liz? His parents? Maria and Alex? Jim and Kyle? Would it all fade away until he had no idea who those people were anymore, until he forgot those who mattered so much to him?

He lowered his gaze. "What happens if I don't return? If none of us return?"

"Then the civil war continues," Ahab said bluntly.

"Can I… can't someone lead in my place? Khivar is dead. Isn't that the important thing?" Max asked, feeling as though he was clutching at straws. It was clear that there was no easy solution, nothing that would make everyone happy, but he still needed to look for one.

"I'm not sure you fully appreciate the destruction that has occurred on your planet," Ahab said delicately. "They need a strong leader. A king. You can't put just anyone on the throne. And if someone tries to take your throne, someone who isn't you… well, it will be like another Khivar. A prolonged war."

Max closed his eyes. That really wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"I can't force you to return. But it could be a complete disaster if you don't," Ahab finished.

Max opened his eyes and studied Ahab for a long moment. Then he asked seriously, "What would you do if I refused to return? If all of us did? What would be your next move?"

"I would have to make contact with the leaders of the Royalist faction still on Antar and discuss it with them," Ahab replied. He hesitated, then asked, "Is that what you have decided?"

"I don't know yet," Max answered honestly.

"You need to make a decision," Ahab pressed.

"I know that," Max snapped tersely. "But what do you want me to say? I haven't… I just haven't decided. I _can't_. Not yet. I need to…"

He was procrastinating. Stalling. There was no other explanation for it. He didn't want to make the decision, so he was putting it off, trying to find more things to think about, more questions to ask and details to consider.

"What do you think would happen should you speak to the Royalists on Antar about my not returning?" Max pressed.

Ahab sighed. "I'm not sure. Likely, we would need to get proof from you that you are willingly abdicating the throne so that we would not be accused of treason. Then we would need to find a successor. That would be… difficult… but not impossible. A general in the army, perhaps, or another member of the Royal family. A few escaped the bloodshed and sought sanctuary with us or with the rulers of other planets. Distant relations, of course, but they do have royal blood…"

"So it's possible to get someone to rule instead of me?" Max asked anxiously.

"Possible, yes. A good idea… I don't know."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea for me to rule," Max admit, voicing aloud one of the many fears that had plagued him for a while. "I can feel Zan's powers. I have it. But I don't have his control. I may be able to access his memories when I return to Antar, but will that be enough? What if you put me on the throne and I don't know what I am doing? What if I give in to this… this darkness?"

"Darkness?" Ahab asked, not really comprehending.

But Max wasn't speaking to him. He was talking aloud, but mainly he was talking to himself.

"What if having Zan's memories aren't enough? What if his personality isn't enough? What if I can't control my power? What if I change, what if I let the anger and rage and whatever else I am feeling control me? I am not qualified to be a king, and I might have the memories, but what if that isn't enough? I didn't experience it, not really. It would be like someone else's memories inside of me, and if you put me on the throne and give me unlimited power, who is to say that I won't become like Khivar? Or worse?"

"You won't," Ahab said.

But Max ignored him. "Or what if I am simply ineffectual? What if there is still too much Max in me? There is no proof at all that I am what Antar needs. I might make it worse."

"You haven't seen the state of the planet," Ahab answered dryly. "I'm not sure anything can make it worse."

Max shook his head and didn't say anything. He wanted to do what was best for Antar, and he also wanted to do what was best for himself.

The problem was that he no longer had any idea what was best for either.

* * *

"Hey, Dad."

Kyle shifted back and forth on his feet and stared at the gravestone. He didn't really believe in talking to graves – he was fairly certain that his father couldn't actually hear him – but he was here anyway. Tess had come several times, he knew, and he thought that it made her feel a little bit better. He wasn't sure why, but he figured he could at least try it.

He felt ridiculous.

He also wondered vaguely what Buddhism thought of death. He knew reincarnation played a role, but he wasn't sure of any of the details. He hadn't looked into it, not even after is father had died.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shivered a little bit in the cold air.

"Tonight is New Year's Eve," he said. "I guess you probably don't care. And you probably can't even hear me, anyway. But… um… Isabel organized a party at the Crashdown. Just for those of us who… who know about the… the Czechoslovakians or whatever that codeword is. Although I think Tess wants to bring Chris. And maybe I should bring Trudy so I'm not the only one without a date…"

There was no answer. He hadn't expected one, but the absence of any sign at all only added to his theory that people who talked to gravestones were crazy.

"This is stupid," he muttered.

But he wanted to talk to someone who would understand how he was feeling right now. The problem was that the only person who would understand that was dead, and he just didn't feel right talking to dead people.

He pressed on anyway, "I don't know why she wanted this stupid party, but she spent a lot of time getting into. And Alex said it was important, and Max and Michael agreed, although I don't think either were too happy about it. And I guess Tess is going to go. She asked if I would stop by, at least for a little bit. She said Isabel would appreciate it." He paused, then added, "I _really_ don't get Tess."

But thinking of Tess brought him too close to the feelings he was trying to avoid. He looked away from the gravesite, lifting his head up towards the sky.

It was gray.

"I don't know what I'm going to do if she leaves," Kyle said softly. "If she goes back to… to that planet… I'd be alone. With you dead and her gone… I don't know. I guess I just… some part of me never really thought this would happen. Even though I knew intellectually that it was possible, I still… ignored it, I guess. Didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to… to lose all of my family in less than a year."

He let out a long breath. He knew he wouldn't be entirely alone, of course, but his father and Tess were the closest relationships he had ever had, and losing them both made him feel adrift and disoriented.

And now that he lived in San Francisco, he didn't even have the safety and familiarity of everyone he had grown up with in Roswell.

Amy DeLuca and the Evanses had been nice to him, gone out of their way to make sure he knew he could go to them if he needed anything. But if staying in Roswell had been too painful after his father's death, he doubted he would be any more inclined to remain her after Tess' departure.

It was a disheartening thought.

"You'd be proud of her, though," he said after a few more moments of silence. "You'd have been really proud of her. I look at the group now, and I think in some ways she's the one holding it together. And she manages to do that while still insulting everyone."

He chuckled softly.

"You'd have been really proud of her."

* * *

Isabel spun around on the stool at the bar and stared at the Crashdown. There was a disco ball attached to the ceiling, and it was casting dots of colored light across the ceiling and walls. There were chips and salsa, French fries, pretzels, and several bottles of soda on the bar. Isabel had considered trying to get champagne, but her Liz had told her there was no way her father would go for allowing underage drinking in his establishment. Music was playing from the CD player near the door.

Michael was leaning against the far booth, looking entirely sullen about being dragged to the party. Maria was perched on the seat of the booth, and Max was standing next to them, only half-listening to whatever Maria was saying. His attention was focused mostly on Liz, who was chatting with Alex near the entrance to the kitchen.

Chris and Trudy where there as well, talking with Kyle and Tess in a clump apart from the others. Isabel wasn't quite as thrilled about the additions of Chris and Trudy, even though she actually got along fine with both of them. She simply hadn't wanted to invite anyone outside of the immediate group, feeling the need for this to be a family thing. But Tess had insisted, refusing to come if she couldn't bring Chris. And Isabel had known that Tess had meant it, and had given in eventually. Then Kyle had requested to extend an invitation to Trudy, and Isabel had reluctantly agreed.

And so there they all were; the ten of them. Her parents had planned to drop by for a bit later in the evening, and she knew Mr. and Mrs. Parker were upstairs and would probably check on them once or twice before going off to a celebration of their own. She had no plans of allowing the party to turn into anything either sets of parents would disapprove of, but she still knew to be on her guard.

It was what she had wanted. One night to be normal, to have a party and hang out with friends and worrying about parents. To not think about the future.

"Hey."

She turned towards the voice. Alex had disengaged himself from the conversation with Liz and was now standing at her side. He was dressed in slacks and a blue shirt that matched his blue eyes, and was wearing a broad smile.

"Hey," she replied.

"This is what you wanted, right?" Alex asked, gesturing around with one hand.

"Yeah," Isabel agreed, watching as Liz joined Max, Michael, and Maria. Max said something, and Liz flushed, and Michael rolled his eyes. Then Isabel let her eyes wander over to Kyle and Tess and frowned. "Well, almost."

Alex followed her gaze. "You weren't expecting Chris and Trudy," he said. It wasn't a question, and Isabel didn't answer. Alex continued softly, "I guess it was important to Tess and Kyle to have them here."

"They aren't part of the group," Isabel murmured.

"Kyle isn't really part of the group, either," Alex pointed out logically, and Isabel couldn't argue with that. Kyle had never been a part of the group, no matter how much he knew about them or how much he obviously cared for Tess.

But he knew their secret. And whether anyone wanted it or not, him knowing their secret irrevocably tied him to them.

"If Tess leaves," Alex murmured, "she's leaving Chris, too. And Trudy and Jessica and Sara. And Cliff. All of them. They were her friends and she cared about them, and… you wanted one day to be normal. Tess clearly does, too, and her _normal_ includes Chris."

"I know," Isabel agreed.

And it wasn't as though there was any reason to be all that upset that they were here. It wasn't exactly how she had envisioned it, but Tess was clearly happy with the addition, and perhaps that was enough.

Of course, Isabel was also more than just a little bit curious how Kyle had convinced Trudy to come with him. After all, she was fairly certain that they had broken up and stayed broken up, and although they were still friends, coming to a New Year's Eve party with someone was more than just a sign of friendship.

It was clearly a date.

But Kyle would leave again once his winter break was over, and Trudy would be on her own – possibly without even Tess, although she had no idea of that yet – and this date wouldn't have changed anything. Isabel doubted she would have managed something like that, had she been in Trudy's place.

She ran a hand through her hair and turned her full attention back to Alex.

"People look like they're having a good time," Alex said. "But there's not enough dancing yet."

"Maybe you should start," Isabel said with a light laugh. "Show everyone what they're missing out on by not being on the dance floor."

"I'll have you know," Alex said with mock indignation, "I am a _very_ talented dancer."

Isabel laughed outright at that. "Alex, I've _seen_ you dance. You can't lie to me about this."

"Have you ever seen me do the robot?" Alex demanded. When Isabel shook her head, he grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the barstool and towards the center of the diner. She protested half-heartedly, blushing furiously and trying to pull away from him.

Then Alex started dancing, flinging his limbs about in jerky movements in what he clearly hoped was a decent rendition of the robot, and Isabel nearly doubled over with laughter.

* * *

A few hours after Alex's attempt at dancing, Maria found Michael standing in the alley behind the Crashdown. She paused in the doorway of the diner and shivered slightly in the cool night air, before taking a few tentative steps towards him.

"Michael?"

He turned, surprised. "Hey."

"What are you doing?" Maria asked, looking around curiously. The alley was deserted, and Michael was simply standing in the center of it, arms folded across his chest, chin tilted slightly up.

"Just… looking," he said, and raised his eyes towards the sky again.

Maria looked up as well. It was a cloudless night, and she could see thousands of stars, white dots standing out against the inky black of the sky.

"Oh." She took a few steps towards him. "It's pretty."

"Pretty isn't exactly the word I was going for," Michael answered dryly, giving her a tight smile.

She wondered what words he was thinking of. Terrifying, perhaps.

It was ironic, she mused, that she had learned so much about what the universe was capable of, and that in learning that, she'd lost some of the wonder she had felt before. The stars were no longer mysterious and enigmatic. The universe was no longer a great expanse of mystery.

Everything was tainted by war and bloodshed.

Michael sighed. "It doesn't feel like home. When I look at the stars… I used to think they were home. When I was younger, and only had Max and Isabel and Tess… and Hank. I always thought of Roswell as just a rest stop on our journey and home as somewhere up there. But now… it doesn't feel like that anymore."

"Well, Hank was hardly ever family," Maria pointed out logically. "And his trailer certainly wasn't home."

She hadn't thought about Michael's foster father in a long time. There hadn't been a reason to, not after Michael had gotten emancipation and started living on his own. Hank, like so many of their other problems from sophomore year and earlier, had faded into the background.

"All these talks we've had with the Royalists… it doesn't lead anywhere. We don't have answers. I don't know what to do," Michael admitted.

"You'll figure it out eventually," Maria said, knowing that the words weren't helpful, weren't reassuring, but not having any idea what to say instead. She wanted to help Michael, wanted to offer advice and wisdom, but she couldn't think of a single thing that would make any of this easier.

Michael gave her a look, his eyes narrowed and his expression unreadable.

She gave a half-shrug as defense of her unhelpful comment, then said, "I'll still love you, no matter what."

Michael was silent for a long moment, then he sighed heavily and said, "We should go back inside before Isabel comes looking for us."

Maria glanced down at the watch on her wrist. "It's almost eleven-fiftten."

"Forty-five minutes to midnight," Michael murmured.

"Forty-five minutes to a new year," Maria added.

Michael came to her side and wrapped one arm around her shoulders, and they walked back into the Crashdown. At the door, Maria paused a took one last look up at the stars before shutting the door behind them and rejoining the party.

* * *

"Are you hiding?" Liz asked as she stumbled upon Max sitting on the floor of the kitchen. "Because this is a lousy hiding spot."

Max raised an eyebrow at her and replied, "It's good enough to keep me away from Isabel."

"She still bugging you about your refusal to join in the dancing?" Liz asked, trying and failing to keep the smirk off her face as she settled onto the floor next to Max.

"She's been at it all night," Max complained. "I don't dance. You'd think at some point in the last twelve years she would have figured that out." He wrinkled his nose for a moment, lost in thought, then added, "Besides, I'm not the only one hiding from her. Michael was as well."

"Maria said Michael was outside looking at the stars," Liz countered.

Max rolled his eyes. "I don't care what excuse he gave Maria or Isabel. He was hiding."

Liz grinned, then said, "Alex was dancing. So were Kyle and Chris."

"Whatever Alex was doing was not dancing," Max muttered under his breath. Liz heard his words, however, and tried to look stern and disapproving. But the memory of Alex doing the robot, followed by the memory of Alex attempting a waltz with Isabel, broke through her concentration and she had to struggle to contain the giggles.

Grace and coordination had never really been one of Alex's strong-points. Maria had been a klutz for a long time, but it was always Alex who managed to spectacularly trip over his own feet when they were growing up.

Liz leaned against Max. When she had excused herself from the main room of the diner, Michael and Maria had been sitting at a booth, deep in conversation. Or, judging by the way Michael kept gesturing with both hands and Maria kept frowning and emphatically shaking her head, they were deep in argument. Chris, Tess, Kyle, and Trudy had been dancing, and Alex and Isabel had been standing between the two groups, half-dancing, half-talking.

So much had changed, and yet so much hadn't. The popular clique still stood to one side, while Michael, Maria, and Liz had been on the others, and Alex and Isabel caught in between.

Of course, it wasn't that simple, but it was still interesting to see.

And oddly comforting in a very screwed up way.

Max suddenly reached over and caught her hand. "Three seconds to midnight," he whispered suddenly. "Three, two, one…" Then he leaned in and kissed her.

_There were stars everywhere, and a silence. A silence that was absolute, was beyond anything that could be found on any planet. A silence that stretched on and on into the void, where only stars shone, casting faint white light in the dark. Illuminating emptiness._

Liz drew back, surprised, as the flash faded.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. "Max, it's eleven-fifty."

"I know," he answered with a grin, "but I couldn't wait the extra ten minutes until midnight." Then he sobered and asked, "What did you see? In the flash, I mean."

Liz exhaled. "Space. It's very… big. And empty."

"I think you've just summoned up about ninety percent of astronomy," Max said, laughing.

Liz slapped him playfully on the arm. "You're the one who asked what I saw," she said. "That was what I saw."

Max glanced up at the clock. "Eight more minutes until midnight," he said softly. "I'm not sure I can wait that long."

"You know," Liz said slyly, "there's nothing that says you're not _allowed_ to kiss until midnight on New Year's Eve. It's just tradition, not an actual law."

Max bit back a smile as he replied, "But I wouldn't want to ruin the tradition."

Liz leaned in to kiss him. "Tradition is overrated."

* * *

Next (and last!) Chapter: Details in the Fabric

Due: Thurs 7/21


	46. Details in the Fabric

Title: Details in the Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Author's note: And so the epic finally comes to an end. I can't believe I'm done with this. I can't believe I started writing _This Brilliant Dance_ years ago. I'm sure I'll still be around the Roswell fandom writing more stories, although nothing quite as crazily ambitious as this trilogy.

The lyrics in this chapter are from the song _Details in the Fabric_ by Jason Mraz.

* * *

Chapter Forty-Six: Details in the Fabric

_Calm down, deep breaths  
And get yourself dressed  
Instead of running around  
And pulling all your threads  
And breaking yourself up_

"I still don't understand why school is starting on a Thursday instead of next Monday."

"Budget cuts?"

"That doesn't make any sense, Max. Why would budget cuts leads to more school days?"

"Are we making up snow days?"

"We didn't have any snow, Michael. And snow days are made up in June, not January."

"We had that one freak snow storm that Isabel conjured."

"I conjured less than an inch of snow, Michael, and it was already winter break so we didn't miss any school."

"Why are we talking about this?"

"Because school is starting on Thursday, Tess."

"School _always_ starts on Thursday, Max. The Thursday after Labor Day. The Thursday after New Year's Day. It's one of the wacky things Roswell does for no apparent reason."

"Really?"

"How have you been here for twelve years and not noticed that?"

"Maxwell doesn't pay attention."

"Oh, and _you_ do pay attention, Michael?"

"Oh, shut up, Tess."

"It's Tuesday. Tomorrow is Wednesday. School starts on Thursday. Why was our break only a week and a half long?"

"Technically it was two weeks if you count the weekends."

"Who counts weekends?"

"I thought we were meeting to discuss whether or not we should go back to Antar."

"We were, Tess, but apparently Michael and Isabel find it more interesting to talk about our school schedule."

"Oh, like you're not interested in this as well, Max."

"Can we _please_ focus? Some of us actually have social lives to get back to."

The four hybrids were gathered in Michael's apartment, presumably to discuss the possible return to Antar. But no one really wanted to talk about it, and the conversation had drifted to several other topics before landing on the issue of school start dates.

But no matter how hard they tried to ignore the issue, it kept coming back to haunt them. Antar was always in the back of their minds, and Ahab and the other Royalists were clearly growing impatient.

They had to make a decision, and they had to make one soon.

"I don't want to go," Isabel said finally, her voice wavering slightly.

"I don't think any of us want to go," Max answered softly, shaking his head. "What we'll lose, what we have to leave behind…" He stopped and ran a hand through his hair. "It isn't a matter of what we want, though. We have to do what is right."

"We have no idea what is right," Isabel countered. She knew she wasn't the only one who felt lost and more than a little uneasy about the entire situation. And no one could argue with her statement.

"There is a way I can abdicate the throne," Max said, "although Ahab is less than pleased by that idea." He thought of Courtney, of the rebel skin's words and warning. She hadn't wanted him to return to Antar, and though she was never going to be someone whose opinion he trusted, some of what she said had made sense.

Ahab was against the idea, but did he really understand what would happen if Max went back? Or did he still look at Max and see King Zan, even though they were all nothing more than sixteen-year-olds?

Michael scratched his eyebrow. It was still an instinctual gesture, but every time he caught himself doing it, he thought of Laurie.

He wondered what she would think if she never heard from him again.

Aloud, he said, "We all know what Ahab wants. But that is irrelevant at the moment. We have to figure out what we are going to do, even if that means going against what he wants."

"Even if it means going against what we want," Tess added quietly.

A dismal silence met her words.

"If we don't go back," Isabel asked suddenly, "what do we do with the Granolith? Do we send it back with Ahab? And do we cut all ties with Antar and the other planets? The FBI has said they won't help us if we get exposed. Can we really risk keeping in touch with anyone?"

"So we would cut off all ties with the planet are alien half is from," Tess said. "We would completely turn our backs on the war."

It felt wrong and selfish, but Isabel was right. If they didn't go back, they couldn't risk staying in contact with Antar. They couldn't allow their enemies – human or otherwise – to find them.

"And the Granolith…"

"The Granolith is powerful," Max conceded after a moment, "but we still don't fully understand what it does. I guess we can trust Ahab, we can ask him what to do with it…"

"This all assumes we aren't going back," Tess said flatly. "If we do go back, we take it with us." She paused, then added, "I guess we'll still have to figure out what it does, though. It's more than a ship and… I don't know. I've never really understood that part of our heritage."

They were all silent, contemplating this. The Granolith had not played a major role in their lives despite the importance of its discovery. They didn't understand it, didn't understand why it was worth killing for. But it was important, and Khivar had been willing to lead his skins into what he knew could be a trap in order to get it.

Whatever they decided to do, they had to think carefully about the Granolith. They couldn't make any hasty decisions with something that powerful.

"We've made mistakes," Michael said finally. "We've made stupid choices, done stupid things. But at the end of the day, we've always done whatever we needed to. We've fought the war, we've fought Khivar and his skins. Returning to Antar… that might be just one more thing we need to do. One more step we don't want to take, but…"

"But we will do it anyway, because it needs to be done," Max finished when Michael trailed off.

Michael nodded.

"Except none of us are convinced this is the best thing to do," Isabel said softly. "If I knew for sure that returning to Antar would stop a civil war and return the planet to peace and prosperity, I would do it. But I don't know that, and I don't… I don't want to make such a big decision, I don't want to give up my life for nothing."

"None of us do," Tess agreed.

"I'm not fit to lead," Max said firmly. "But I don't know if I can just walk away from them. From the war. From Antar. It just… it doesn't feel right."

"None of this feels right," Isabel murmured. "That's why I preferred talking about school starting dates."

* * *

Tuesday morning turned into Tuesday afternoon and then Tuesday evening, and Max still had no idea what to do. The meeting with the other three hybrids had not been particularly productive. They had all agreed that they needed to do the right thing, even if it wasn't what they wanted to do, but they had also all agreed that they had no idea what the right thing was.

And that made it worse.

He had talked to Liz about it. He had talked to Ahab about it. He had talked to Isabel and Michael about it. He'd even talked to Courtney about it, although that had been more her doing than his. And now…

Now there were two more people he had to talk to, two more people whose opinions mattered to him.

He knocked tentatively on the door to his parents' bedroom. Isabel was standing behind him, having agreed that they needed to have this conversation, and she was shifting anxiously from foot to foot. They were both nervous.

Diane opened the door.

"Oh, Max, Isabel… is everything alright?" she asked, stepping side and gesturing for her children to enter. She was wearing a nightgown, and Philip was sitting in bed reading what looked like several legal documents from his office.

"We wanted to talk," Max said. "If you guys don't mind."

"About whether or not you're leaving?" Diane asked quietly.

Max looked at her in surprise, then asked with some chagrin, "Is it that obvious?"

"I know it's all you have been thinking about for several days," she said. "Your father and I were wondering when you would come to talk to us."

"We didn't want to make this harder for you," Isabel said softly. "That's why… that's why we didn't come earlier."

After all, both she and Max knew how their parents would react to the possibility of them leaving. It wasn't really fair to ask their parents for advice when one of the possibilities was that they would leave and never see either of them ever again.

"Oh, honey," Philip said, patting the side of the bed in an indication for Isabel to sit down, "we're your parents. It's our job to try to make things easier for you. Not the other way around."

Isabel took the seat next to her father and looked over at Max. She knew that both her parents had come to terms with the very real possibility that she and Max would leave. They'd known since May, since discovering that their children weren't entirely human, that that day might come.

It didn't make it any easier.

"Do you think we should go back?" Max asked.

"Do you think you can make a difference there?" Philip asked. "Do you think that you are needed?"

"Is that all that matters?" Isabel questioned. "Whether or not we are needed?"

"I want you to do whatever makes you happiest," Diane said. "Your father and I… that is all we have ever wanted for you. To be happy. But we know you, Izzy. We know that neither of you will be happy here if you think you've turned your back on all the people counting on you."

"You have a very high opinion of us," Max said dryly.

"Of course," Diane answered. "We're your parents."

Max rubbed his eyes. "Do you want… What do you want us to do?"

"We want you to stay," Philip said without the slightest bit of hesitation. There was a hint of incredulity in his voice as he answered, and when he continued, it was clear he was both surprised and upset by the question. "How can you think we would want anything else?"

Max let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He felt relieved to hear the answer, and a bit disgusted at himself for even considering the possibility that his parents would say anything else.

"But you didn't come to us to ask what we wanted," Diane continued, and there were tears pooling in her eyes. "You came to us for advice and we… I don't want to guilt you into doing something you don't think is right."

Her voice was thick with emotion, and for the first time, Max saw the raw pain his mother was feeling. It was there in every word she said, every smile she forced to her features, every piercing gaze that quickly shifted away from him when he looked at her.

He wondered how he could have missed it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"It's not your fault," Diane answered, coming to his side and hugging him tightly.

He hugged her back.

It felt like it was his fault. All the people he would be hurting if he left – his parents, Liz, Maria, Alex… maybe even Kyle. How many lives would be altered by his disappearance?

"I love you," Diane murmured.

"I love you, too, Mom," he replied, his voice breaking as he tried to force his feelings into words. "Isabel and I… we can never tell you how… how grateful we are that it was… that it was you and Dad that… that found us… And I'm so sorry for all the lies and everything else we did. I'm so very sorry…"

"I'm sorry we couldn't help you more. I'm sorry we couldn't protect you," Diane answered.

"You did," Isabel said. "You did a lot."

There was a moment of silence, and then Philip spoke up. "Whatever else your mother and I have done, I look at the two of you and I know we raised good children."

* * *

"Have you made a decision?" Liz asked, her tone brisk and unemotional. She blinked a few times as she regarded Max, and felt the burn of tears in her eyes. She was doing everything she could to keep herself together. They had just won a war and Max was now faced with what would probably end up being the most challenging decision of his life, and it was not the time to start falling apart.

They were gathered at Michael's apartment, all eight of them, including Kyle. It was Wednesday evening, and Liz knew that whatever the decision, if it was not already made, it would be in the next couple days.

Max looked down and scuffed the floor of the apartment with the top of one shoe. "Not yet," he admitted. Then, slanting a look at Isabel, he added sarcastically, "Some of us have been pondering the issue of school starting on a Thursday."

"School always starts on the Thursday after New Year's Day," Liz said.

"Told you," Tess muttered.

"I can't believe that's tomorrow," Alex remarked with a smile. Then he stopped smiling and added a bit sheepishly, "I guess I can't believe a lot of what has happened over this break."

"No kidding," Isabel agreed. She paused, thinking, then said, "The Royalists want us to go back to Antar."

Liz caught the hint of bitterness in her tone and wondered how many arguments had happened. Max had told her more than once that the Royalists were growing impatient.

It didn't seem fair to her for the other aliens to be pushing this decision., to be forcing it forward when it was so blatantly clear to her that Max was still struggling to deal with the fallout of everything that had happened.

Of course, it also didn't really seem fair to her that they had just won a battle and now might have to continue fighting.

"It's a lot to think about," Michael said. "And I can't really blame Ahab for feeling the way he does. There's still a lot to do. Fighting and rebuilding." His gaze darkened and he added, "Assuming we at all qualified to do any of that."

"We don't doubt your abilities," Maria said.

"I do," Michael answered bluntly. "I doubt my abilities all the time."

"Plus, there would probably be other problems," Tess agreed. "I mean, do Antarians really want to be ruled by people who are half-human? How do we know that they won't be as afraid of our human half as most humans are afraid of our alien half."

"We're not afraid of your alien half," Liz countered.

Tess raised an eyebrow. "Liz," she said, "you're _terrified_ of Zan."

Liz didn't have an argument for that. She was terrified of Zan, although that had nothing to do with the fact that he was an alien and everything to do with his personality.

Maybe she was just afraid of royalty.

Whatever the reason, she couldn't argue with Tess. It was entirely possible that the Antarians would not accept someone who was half-human.

"But they're the ones who made you half-human," Alex protested. "It doesn't make sense that they would be afraid of you."

"A handful of scientists made us half-human, and I sincerely doubt they polled the entire planet to see what all Antarians thought of that decision," Tess answered. "It was in the middle of a war, and they were desperate and scared and working in secret." She shrugged. "I'm not saying I'm sure they'll all hate us. I'm just saying it is a possibility we have to be aware of."

"And you might be a great ruler, too," Maria said, looking from Tess to Max. "That's another possibility you should be aware of." She licked her lips and then added hurriedly, "Not that I want you to leave. I'm just saying… you might be good at this."

"Or we might make things worse," Isabel countered, looking distressed. "What do we know about ruling? What do we know about dealing with a war-torn planet, with conflicting factions, with politics?"

"Whatever decision you make," Alex said quietly, reassuringly, "it will be the right one."

"Really? Because I can think of a lot of scenarios where they we the wrong decision," Michael countered abrasively.

Kyle laughed.

All eyes swung towards him. It was odd, having him as part of the meeting. He had never really been a part of the group, and yet now he was standing there, looking for all the world like he belonged. Tess had invited him to the meeting, and he had come without any hesitation.

Liz thought idly that he, too, had probably realized how close they all were to losing people that they loved.

"Maybe we should be focusing on the good stuff," Liz suggested after a moment of silence. "I mean… we did save the world."

Khivar would have destroyed it if he had to. That much was obvious, that much they could all agree on. Khivar would have done anything at all to make sure that there were no threats to his rule, and he had shown no qualms about killing innocent people in the past.

Besides, Liz had Future Michael's visit to reminder her of just how far Khivar would go to get what he wanted.

They had saved the world.

So did it make her a horrible person that saving the world did not completely make up for the loss of the boy she loved?

"Yeah, I guess," Isabel agreed quietly.

"It is a big deal," Max said, and Liz could tell that he, too, was thinking of Future Michael's warnings. "Khivar could have destroyed the entire planet and killed off the human race if he wanted."

They were _alive_. That was something. That was _really_ something. Because at the beginning of the school year, Liz knew that not a single one of them had assumed that they would actually live to graduation.

"If you left," Liz asked tentatively, "when would you go?"

"A couple weeks," Max answered readily enough. "We would need time to cover our tracks, to come up with a good cover story for our disappearance. We'd need to tie up all loose ends."

It was clear he had given this a lot of thought.

"Well, if you do leave, give me enough notice so I can get over here from San Francisco," Kyle said. "I'd like to say goodbye."

Tess sent him an exasperated look. "You really think I would leave for good without saying goodbye?"

Liz glanced between the two, and wondered if everyone else heard the hint of fear in Kyle's voice. It hadn't yet occurred to her just how alone he would be if Tess left. But clearly Kyle had realized that, and judging from the way Tess was looking at him with sympathy and guilt in her eyes, she had realized it as well.

"We don't know yet if we're leaving. We need to think about it some more," Max said firmly. "It's a serious decision, and…" He trailed off, looking uncomfortable. "I think it's one we need to discuss more before we can decide what we need to do." There was a slight emphasis on the word need, a reminder to all of them that this was about what _had_ to be done, not what they _wanted_ to do.

They had to think about what was best for Antar.

Which meant that first they had to figure out what was best for Antar.

Of course, all they had been doing for the last week was discussing it, and they had gotten nowhere. But Liz knew they would make the decision soon enough. It was important, and they wouldn't put it off forever, and she had promised Max that she would support him, no matter what he decided.

She only hoped she'd have the strength to keep that promise if he decided to leave.

"Anyway, whatever we do, we're not leaving tonight," Tess said.

"Which means you're all lucky enough to start school with the rest of us tomorrow," Liz said, forcing a smile to her lips and a lightness in her tone. Then she sobered and shook her head in amazement. "Can you believe it? School starts tomorrow. Winter break has… well… it really hasn't felt like much of a break."

"Christmas was nice," Isabel protested.

"Oh! No! Not good!" Maria suddenly exclaimed, looking alarmed.

"What? What's wrong?" Michael demanded, moving to her side in an instant, his eyes traveling around quickly as though he expected them to be under attack. Liz, too, stiffened and stared worriedly at Maria, wondering what was wrong.

Had they forgotten something important?

"School starts tomorrow," Maria moaned. "And I didn't do that calculus problem set that got assigned. I'm _never_ going to finish it in time."

"You didn't do the homework?" Liz asked, feeling relief that it was a mundane problem. One that didn't require an alien solution. Then she frowned and added, "I finished it the first day we got it."

"And that _so_ does not surprise me," Tess muttered under her breath.

"It's just homework, Maria," Michael said impatiently, glaring at her. "It's not the end of the world. Don't scare me like that unless you're actually under attack. I thought…" he trailed off with a sigh. There was no need to finish the sentence, they all knew what he meant.

"It _is_ serious," Maria complained. "I have a B in that class and I need to get it up to at least a B+ which I won't be able to do if I don't turn in this assignment because it was long and important, and the teacher said it was worth a lot of our grade…"

"Maria, breathe," Liz instructed.

"Wait, we had calculus homework?" Michael asked suddenly. "How did I miss that?"

"You stopped coming to class," Max suggested with a smirk.

"I came to class!" Michael protested.

"Fine. You stopped listening in class," Max corrected himself.

"He can't have _stopped_ listening in class, Max," Tess said, "seeing as he never _started_ listening in the first place."

"Can't really blame Guerin for that, though," Kyle commented. "Calculus is boring and incredibly pointless."

"No it's not. Calculus is fascinating," Alex protested, and Liz agreed with an emphatic nod.

Kyle rolled his eyes.

"It _is_. It's the underpinning of a lot of mathematical theory, not to mention physics and some life sciences," Liz said defiantly. She knew that Alex was the only one who was going to agree with her on this, but she had enjoyed calculus and had every intention of defending.

Besides, it felt nice to be arguing about something not life-threatening.

"And to think, somehow, you managed to get both Kyle _and_ Max to be infatuated with at you some point," Tess said sarcastically, staring at Liz in bemusement. "I mean, okay, Max is an idiot, but at least Kyle should have had more common sense than that…"

Michael started laughing, and at Liz's annoyed stare, he attempted to turn the laugh into a cough. She continued to glare at him, hands on her hips.

"I can't believe I'm going to fail calculus," Maria said. "How can you guys stand there and mock each other when I am going to actually fail a class?"

"You're not going to fail," Alex said automatically.

"You don't know that!"

"I kind of liked calculus, actually," Isabel said abruptly. "Did you ever notice that the teacher looks like a gnome?"

"A gnome?" Max repeated. The disbelief in his expression clearly showed that he did not spend much time comparing his teachers to fantasy creatures, and the idea of anyone looking like a gnome had caught him by surprise.

"Yeah. A gnome. Like… like those little statues people put out in their yards," Isabel explained.

"I've never put statues out in my yard," Michael said.

"You live in an apartment, Space Boy, you don't _have_ a yard," Maria pointed out, shaking her head.

"Max and Isabel never put statues in their yard," Michael answered, crossing his arms over his chest. "Except that one time that your mother bought that absolutely hideous Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer statue for Christmas. Remember?"

"It had those lights on it that would flash all the time," Isabel said fondly. "We thought it might actually give the neighbors seizures. And it was hideous. All the wrong colors. Plus the face looked more like a rabbit than a reindeer with those floppy years. But Mom loved it."

"My Mom once put out an alien-Santa for Christmas," Liz said, grinning. "In front of the Crashdown, to go with the theme. It was green and had huge eyes and scared away all the kids. Dad called it Saint E.T."

"I'm going to fail calculus!" Maria cried, throwing her hands into the air, "I haven't done my homework. I will fail this class. I won't graduate. I'll end up working at the Cheese Factory! All because I was too busy fighting a war to remember calculus. How can you all just stand around and reminisce?"

There was a pause, and Liz looked around the group. Michael had wrapped his arms around Maria and was trying to reassure her while also trying to not laugh at her exaggeration of the consequences of not doing one homework assignment. Tess now seemed bored by the entire conversation, and she and Kyle were both clearly refraining from rolling their eyes with great difficulty. Isabel and Alex were leaning against each other, content to watch Maria panic without interfering.

Max came to stand by Liz's side, draping one arm casually over her shoulder. She looked up at him, and knew that whatever decision he made, she knew it would be the right one, and she knew she hadn't been lying when she said she would love him forever.

And she wouldn't regret the last three years, no matter how painful they had been at times.

After all, they had saved the world.

With that thought in mind, she let out a long sigh and turned to Maria. "You can copy my problem set. But only this once, and only because we saved the world."

_If it's a broken part, replace it.  
If it's a broken arm, then brace it.  
If it's a broken heart, then face it.  
And hold your own, know you name,  
And go your own way.  
And everything… everything will be fine._

* * *

Author's note: And now I am hitting the complete button on this story and officially ending the trilogy.

I'd say I was sorry I couldn't take it all the way to the four hybrids making a decision about whether to stay or go, but that was never really my plan. The trilogy was about their relationships with everyone on Earth and figuring out how to relate to each other. Now that it is over, you can decide for yourselves what you think they will do.

And I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it._  
_


End file.
